


Finding You In Solitude

by LilithShade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Abuse, Assault, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Era, Lemon, Mental Health Issues, Mental Heath, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape does not take place between main pairing, Rape/Non-con Elements, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Themes, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, dark themes, non consensual sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-19 00:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 71,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20322394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithShade/pseuds/LilithShade
Summary: After the trauma of the War Hermione Granger return's to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to conclude her education. Though with her friends unwillingness to address the past she finds herself thrust into isolation. She would never have expected to find a spark in that darkness, or that solidarity could be born from her solitude.





	1. RETURN

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly slow burn Dramione that deals with mental health and trauma. The entire story is plotted in detail and there is no risk of abandonment.

Hermione sat in silence as the train rattled its way towards Hogwarts. She had not seen the castle nor its grounds since the morning after the final battle. Her mind flittered through unwelcome images of bodies broken upon stone and grass. Empty eyes staring up towards the sky, and limbs twisted in the dirt. A girlish giggle snapped her back into the present. Ginny sat across the carriage, her hand resting on Harry's thigh. Again she laughed at something he had said, tucking her hair behind her ear and quickly kissing him on the cheek. It made Hermione uncomfortable, how at ease they seemed. As if they weren't returning to the place that so many were slaughtered. They had been like this all summer, lost in each other. Harry eager to live a normal life, Ginny unwilling to acknowledge her brother’s death. They were all coping in their own way, but none of them were coping, not really. 

Hermione's mind slipped back to the summer. The burrow had not been the warm, homely abode it was before the war. While Ginny found her comfort in Harry, the rest of the Weasley's mourned in their own ways. Molly, unable to cope with the loss of her son, was heard day and night wailing from her bed. Arthur, not knowing how to comfort her, withdrew to tinker in his shed. Percy, Charlie and Bill, reluctant to witness their shattered family, retreated into their separate lives. George was broken, not only having lost a brother, but a part of himself. Bitter at the world, he began to drink. The stench of Firewhisky soon proceeded his arrival. One moment he would appear detached from reality in a drunken stupor, in others reality seemed to come crashing down upon him in an instant. Loath to witness his own reflection, less it remind him of his loss, George had shattered every window in the home within two days.

Then there was Ron. After the turmoil of the war and the kiss they had shared, Hermione believed they would finally begin a relationship in earnest. However, the romance she deemed inevitable never arrived. Once the chase had reached its climax, Ron's interest quickly diminished. The renown that came with being one of the Golden Trio and a celebrated war hero, also brought the attention of women. To these adorations Ronald Weasley was particularly inclined. He had spent the summer with many women, often not bothering to remember their name. He forego any notion of a relationship with Hermione, participating in one conquest after another, never stopping to observe the heartache he had caused.

Neither of Hermione's two best friends showed any signs of noticing her pain, in fact not one of them seemed to notice her at all. It took her only five days after the battle to decide she was leaving. Absorbed in their own pain and distractions, no one remembered that Hermione had been required to obliviate her parents. When she told them all she was leaving no one offered to assist, so she departed alone. She spent the summer tracking her parents across Australia. When at last she found them in a small coastal town, they looked right through her, as if a complete stranger. Despite her best attempts the modifications on their memories were far too strong, she could not bring them back to her. She spent the remainder of the summer watching them from afar, attempting to convince herself she had done the right thing. 

"Hermione." A voice called to her, pulling her from her thoughts. The train had stopped moving and Harry was perched across from her leaning forward. 

"Where’d you go there? I called your name three times." A look of curiosity and perhaps a flicker of concern crossed his face. Before she could respond however Ginny spoke from the doorway of the cabin. "We better get going, almost everyone has left the train now."

After being so consumed by her memories for such a length of time, it took Hermione a moment to ground herself back in the present. She shook her head and looked up through the glass. It was now dark and she could make out the lights of the castles many windows in the distance. This was it, her final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had begun. A year in which she could focus on her studies and achieving good grades in her NEWTs. No evil mad man to fight, no running for her life. This year should be simple, it should be easy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that in its own way, this would be her hardest year yet.

"Hermione, come on, we need to go." Harry was now speaking to her from the doorway, his arm wrapped around Ginny's small waist. They turned to leave, Hermione quickly grabbed her things and moved swiftly to follow them both off the train. 

From the silence of the train, she stepped out onto the chaos of the platform. Everywhere students were rushing to gather their luggage and find their friends. Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. A tight pain spread across her chest, as her breathing became shallow and rapid. She tried in vain to regain control as her vision began to twist at the edges. Abruptly the pressure in her chest seemed to bubble over. Hermione felt as if a flood gate had been cracked wide open. She could feel her magic radiating from her centre, crackling almost painfully across her skin.

Overwhelmed by the sudden sensation she stumbled backwards from the crowd, her elbow connecting with something solid. The magic scorching her skin rushed to the point of contact, erupting with an audible bang. With the release of the magical tension, Hermione exhaled deeply, her vision coming back into focus. 

"What in Salazar's name was that Granger?" Hermione's head snapped around to see Draco Malfoy a short distance away, picking himself up from the ground. She gazed down at him, struggling to grasp at the edges of her mind, trying to make sense of what had just taken place. 

Gaining no immediate response, Malfoy picked himself up off the ground, brushing his hands on his trousers. Stepping forward he continued, his tone almost questioning, “Granger, you just stupefied me."

Still attempting to calm her breathing, she looked up slowly, meeting his steel blue eyes. He was now standing close to her, closer than Hermione could ever recall. Caught off-guard by his height, she found herself equally surprised to find no hint of intimidation in his posture.

"I... I'm s-sorry Malfoy." She managed to stutter, struggling to find her voice.

So softly, almost a whisper he replied, "Don’t worry about it." Turning away from her he slid his hands into his pockets and stalked off towards the carriages.

Left confused by the lack of confrontation in their interaction, Hermione watched him as he strode towards the swarm of students. Composing herself, she followed in his direction, towards the once seemingly horseless carriages. Unable to see Harry and Ginny in the crowd she climbed into the next available seat. The two Hufflepuff third years across from her abruptly ceased their conversation, staring with their mouths agape at Hermione. Uninclined to cater to their awe she turned her attention towards the Thestrals, examining their dark skeletal features. The two girls returned adamantly to their conversation in whispered tones, their eyes darting to and from Hermione. With a sigh she recalled the way women had began to look at Harry and Ron after the war had finished, with admiration and desire. While Harry remained almost oblivious to their advances, Ron's ego swelled. Unlike Harry and herself, Ron had declined the invitation to return to Hogwarts to finish his studies. He instead decided his time would be better spent traversing the world, making full use of the money they had been awarded, as well as the multitude of women drawn towards his newfound wealth and fame.

Just as her thoughts began to spiral towards her ever growing distaste of Ron's actions, the carriage came to a halt. She stood and stepped down from the carriage, leaving her luggage behind with the knowledge that the house elves would have it transported to her dorm before the feasts end. This close to the ancient castle she could see the major damage it had sustained during the battle had been repaired, although it had not yet been returned to its former glory. As she stepped through the giant front doors of the castle she felt the magic of the new wards wash over her. Students were filing through the entry and into the Great Hall, walking towards their respective house tables. Suddenly halting mid stride, Hermione was overcome with images of the past. Instead of the four long tables, she could vividly see row upon row of sheet covered bodies upon the Halls floor. Only vaguely aware of the students passing around her, she felt the panic begin to set in and her magic crackle to the surface. All too aware of her slipping control, she drew in a deep and trembling breath. Slowly Hermione willed herself to focus on the present and her vision began to clarify. Still shaken, Hermione took a small, tentative step forward and entered the Great Hall with her peers.

As she walked towards the Gryffindor table Hermione's eyes wandered, searching for her friends. A short distance away from where she stood, she spotted Harry and Ginny seated so close together that they were almost atop one another. Across from them sat Neville with his back to her. The spot next to him was thankfully vacant so swiftly she took the seat. Neville flinched and his head snapped up, eyes locking with hers, she noticed his hand dart to his robe pocket and surmised he had grasped at his wand.

"Merlin Hermione, you gave me a fright." Neville declared, as he removed his hand from his robes and rubbed at his temple. "I just don't do so well with people sneaking up on me, not since the war." 

"Oh I'm sorry Neville, I didn't even think that I might startle you." Hermione apologised. 

Neville sighed, "No, it’s ok. I know I'm just being paranoid, but I can't help feeling as if there is still something lurking around every corner. I just can't seem to let my guard down anymore."

She knew the feeling all too well herself, always on edge, ready for the next attack. She looked up into his eyes to respond, "We all have our problems after what we have been through, I guess it might take some time to return to normal."

Again he sighed and spoke to no one in particular, "I wonder if things ever really will get back to normal."

Before Hermione could respond, McGonagall cleared her throat from the podium at the front of the Hall. The chatter in the Hall fell to silence as the Headmistress began her address.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in a moment our newest students will walk through those doors and join us to be sorted into their houses. I ask that each and every one of you extend a welcoming and helpful hand to our new editions over the coming year. Now please welcome our new first year students."

As the last word crossed McGonagall’s lips, the large doors at the opposite end of the room opened and a group of small, terrified looking students entered the Great Hall. Their eyes were wide and darted around the expanse of the room as they made their way down the centre aisle. 

"Why are there only that many of them?" Ginny queried. Hermione turned toward the girl and noted the look of confusion upon her face. There really were so few of them, barely more than twenty. Her tone sombre, she answered Ginny's question, "Most of the new students are Muggleborns. A lot of wizarding families decided to send their children to Durmstrang, Beauxbaton's and even Ilvermorny in North America. They were too terrified to send them to Hogwarts." Looking around the room and the spattering of empty seats she added, "It looks as if a lot of the older students must have been transferred as well."

Before the others could reply, McGonagall cleared her throat once more. The whispers around the Hall diminished and all eyes were drawn to the tattered hat, which sat upon a stool before the group of young witches and wizards. The seam along the hats brim split open as the old hat became animate and began to sing.

"Ancient stone and towers tall,  
To this castle there is more.  
Highest keep and dungeon deep,  
All this held by pillars four.

Through segregation of us all,  
In the past have formed cracks.  
If these halls are to be saved,  
Together now forge new pacts.

Though we suffer wounds cut deep,  
We all desire our home not fall.  
It is dire now to become as one.  
Mend the damage heed my call."

As the sorting hat finished its song a heavy silence stretched across the Hall. McGonagall stepped forward unfurling a scroll. Her tone authoritative yet kind, she called forward the first student, "Argent, Rachelle." 

The tiny first year girl stepped forward and took her seat on the stool. As the sorting hat was placed on her head, slipping down over her eyes, the hat called out in a booming voice, "Ravenclaw!" 

The child jumped down from the stool and almost skipped towards the Ravenclaw table while applause rang around the Hall. 

McGonagall called the next name on her list, "Burke, Alistair."

Stepping forward with his head held high and shoulders set squarely, the dark haired boy took his seat. The moment the sorting hat reached his head, it let out a shout, "Slytherin!"

Applause erupted from the Slytherin table, but around the rest of the Hall only a few sparse claps were heard. Aware that she was the only one in her vicinity applauding with vigour, she looked to her friends. Harry and Neville clapped absently, while Ginny sat stoically with her arms crossed against her chest.

"What is wrong with you all?" Hermione questioned in an aggressive whisper.

A look of disgust crossed Ginny's face. "What? He’s just one more slimy snake added to their nest. Do you know who he is 'Mione? He’s a Burke, one of the sacred twenty eight. I bet he is a dirty purist just like Malfoy." 

"Really Ginny? Do you not realise you and Neville are both considered part of the sacred twenty eight? Don't judge the boy before he has had the chance to show his colours." Hermione rubbed at her temple, frustrated at her friends’ dismissal of the young boy.

Ginny scoffed, "Yeah 'Mione, I'm sure he’s just a ray of sunshine like the lot of ‘em."

Feeling the anger begin to swell inside her at her friend’s discrimination, she drew in a deep breath before responding. "Did you not listen to the sorting hats song? It was a warning, if we don't strive for house unity Hogwarts may not survive." 

Rolling her eyes, Ginny opened her mouth to argue her point. As she did so food materialised between the two of them. She sighed and continued, "Look Hermione, you're not going to change my mind on this, they’re all snakes. I'm hungry, let’s just eat."

After dismissing Hermione, Ginny loaded her plate and turned back to flirt playfully with Harry. He spared Hermione a short glace and small smile, then returned to flirt with his girlfriend in earnest. 

Hermione spent the remainder of the meal in relative solitude. Harry and Ginny enamoured in each other’s attentions, and Neville recounting his tale of beheading Nagini to some enthralled Sixth years. 

Once the last of the plates cleared, McGonagall returned to the podium. Her eyes swept across the Hall as she began her address, "Welcome to our staff and students, both new and old. This past year has been trialling for our society. We have suffered tragedy and great losses. I can only hope that these trials act as a crucible for us all, that we learn from our past mistakes, and become stronger as a whole. I ask that you all make an effort to mend old divides and pursue a newly forged unity as we move forward. If the Prefects could now please stand and direct our new First years to your respective house dormitories." 

There was a moment of whispered chatter as the Prefects each left the Hall with their small cohort of new students. Once they had departed McGonagall continued, "This year brings the return of some students that should have rightfully concluded their education in the year past. If these returning Eighth year students could please remain behind. Everyone else please return to your dormitories post-haste, you are dismissed."

The majority of the student body stood and left the Hall, Ginny swooped down to kiss Harry before joining the crowd. As the mass of laughter and chatter receded into the distance, Hermione glanced around at the others in the Hall. So few of them had returned.


	2. FEW

The remaining students, the Eighth years, all stood and walked towards where McGonagall waited at the front of the Hall. There really were so few of them to return. Looking around Hermione only counter seven other students. From Gryffindor, she, Harry and Neville had returned. As well as two Ravenclaw's Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner, and only one Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hovering behind the rest of them were the returning Slytherin’s, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Parkinson appeared to be attempting in vain to talk to Malfoy, pawing at his arm. He ignored her attempts to gain his attention, staring stoically ahead as he waited for McGonagall to begin her address.

The Headmistress gave a small sad smile as her eyes danced from one face to the next of the small group of student. 

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," she began, her head held high with an air of prim elegance. "I know the last time many of you set foot on these grounds is etched deep in your memories. I do not expect any of us to forget what has happened here, but I do hope that each of you can make the most of this opportunity to officially conclude your education with us." Her tense gaze paused for a moment upon the two Slytherin students at the back. 

After the short cease in her discourse she continued, "If the events of last year had not taken place, you would all have graduated and no longer be considered students under our care. For this reason you will be treated differently to the majority of the student body for the remainder of your time here."

The eight students, visibly surprised by this revelation, stared at McGonagall with curiosity written across their faces.

To this reaction the Headmistress allowed a small smile. "This year you will be given a few more allowances than your younger peers. Your curfew will be extended to midnight, and you have permission to leave Hogwarts grounds during the weekends if you so desire. The exception to this allowance is Mister Malfoy, whom due to the conditions of his probation, must stay on school grounds at all times."

All eyes in the room snapped to Malfoy, who remained adamantly fixated upon the Headmistress, unacknowledging of their stares. They had all read about the War trials in the Daily Prophet, although only the most basic of information had been provided. The Malfoy patriarch, Lucius Malfoy, like many of the convicted Death Eaters, was sentenced to life in Azkaban. However, Draco and his Mother were given much lighter sentences, although the specifics of their convictions were sparse. The Malfoy matriarch was sentenced to house arrest and her wand confiscated, for an undisclosed period of time. The family had also been ordered to pay a ludicrous amount of Galleons in compensation, even by Malfoy standards. They remained far from destitute, yet nowhere near as wealthy as they once were. As for Draco Malfoy, very little was known of his conviction other than that he was required to return to Hogwarts for his final year of study under probationary conditions. 

Ignoring the obvious shift in attention, McGonagall resumed, "One final matter, it may have occurred to some of you that the presence of an additional group of students puts a strain upon our accommodations. It has been decided that it best for both yourselves and the younger student body, for you to be lodged separately from your house dormitories." 

The Headmistress noticed Harry's concern before he even had the chance to interject. She dipped her head slightly and spoke to him directly, "Do not fear, Mr Potter. You will all be permitted to visit your respective house common rooms whenever you see fit, providing you return to your own lodgings before your midnight curfews." 

Harry let out a relieved sigh as his body visibly relaxed. Hermione mused that he must have been hurriedly attempting to envision how he could rendezvous with Ginny, while forced into separate accommodation. 

"Now please follow as I direct you to your new quarters." Without hesitation McGonagall left for the Halls entrance at surprising pace. Unprepared for her sudden departure, Hermione and the other students had to move quite swiftly as to not lose her in the corridors. The Headmistress led them towards the Astronomy Tower. Climbing the stairs, they reached a corridor two floors below that of the Astronomy classroom. They stopped at last in front of a tall painting depicting a dark landscape bespeckled in moonlight. From the depths of the landscape appeared a pale young woman dressed in white, she shone with an ethereal quality under the light. She looked at the group and smiled timidly, with a small dip of her head the portrait swung open. 

Hermione was the first to follow McGonagall through the portrait hole, driven by her curiosity of what would await her on the other side. She stepped out into a large circular common room, warmly lit by candlelight and the glowing embers of a grand fireplace to her immediate left. The room was furnished with comfortable looking sofa's surrounding a large fire place. To the right of the entrance was a pair of smaller armchairs set under the room’s one large window, through which Hermione could see moonlight reflected off the Great Lake in the distance. Walking further into the room, she noticed a small table surrounded my four wooden chairs. She surmised that it was unlikely that the eight of them would ever sit down for a meal together, so the lack of chairs would never really be a problem. 

Now in the centre of the large room, Hermione spun slowly in a circle. Directly across the room from the entry were two large ornate doors, with eight smaller doors evenly spaced on either side. It was strangely reminiscent of the room of doors in the Department of Mysteries, and brought with it an overwhelming sense of Deja vu. Like herself, the others were all taking in their surrounding and had begun to spread out through the space. 

"If I could please have all your attention for just a few more moments." The Headmistress announced, bringing the students focus back. "I'm sure you have all observed how different this dormitory is to that of those you have become accustomed to. Foremost being that a password is not required for entry. Lady Clair De Lune guards your portrait hole and knows you all by sight, she will permit only the eight of you and myself entry to these quarters." 

Neville shifted his feet nervously and hesitantly opened his mouth to speak. Before he could formulate any words, McGonagall cut him short, "I am afraid Mr Longbottom that there will be no exceptions to this rule. Miss Lovegood and yourself will have to find elsewhere for your frivolity."

Neville hastily inspected his own feet, his cheeks flaring.

"Now as to your individual accommodations, you will notice behind me a large set of doors, through these are your shared bathing facilities. To either side are your private rooms, you may decide amongst yourselves who gets which. On selecting a room you may set your password for privacy. Each room is identical, though as your former Transfiguration Professor I am confident you are all capable of transforming your furnishings as you see fit."

The Headmistress paused as her gaze swept across the group of students once more before resuming, "Lastly, you will each find your timetables in your quarters, please read over them thoroughly. If you require assistance in any matters please present to your heads of house or my office. For now, I bid you all a good night."

McGonagall, leaving no time for any additional inquiries, departed through the portrait hole. The group stood in stunned silence, surprised by her swift departure. The strange stillness of the group finally broke, with Malfoy turning and walking to the door furthest on the left. He whispered something unheard to the door, his surname engraved itself on the small bronze plaque on its centre and the door swung open. He stepped through the doorway and immediately closed it behind him. 

Hermione pulled her attention away from the door behind which Malfoy just disappeared, turning to Harry and Neville. 

"I guess we best choose our rooms."

Harry, also previously transfixed on Malfoys door, looked up and responded, "Yeah, let’s go over here." He departed towards the right and selected the door on the opposing end of the Slytherins for himself. Hermione followed, standing in front of the door next to her friend.

"I will meet you back out here in a little while Harry."

Harry ruffled his fingers through his hair and gave her a small shrug, "No worries 'Mione, see you in a bit." 

She turned her attention back to her own door and considered for a moment what password to select. Leaning forward, she whispered, "initium novum." She truly hoped this year could be a new beginning for her, a year to find herself. She watched as 'GRANGER' etched itself on the plaque and the door swung inwards, revealing her quarters for the year. Stepping through the doorway, she pushed the door gently closed behind herself.

The room was reasonably sized and slightly wedge shaped, widening towards the rear wall. In the centre of the far wall was a moderate sized window above a plainly dressed double bed, a wooden chest sat at its end. The left side of the room housed a double door wardrobe in front of which sat her luggage. On the opposing wall stood a small bookshelf and study desk. Pulling her wand from her robe, she began to transfigure the items in the room. She walked towards her bed, she had no objection to the timber frame, all the furnishing in the room were a uniform deep maple tone. The bedding however was in need of a change. She flicked her wand changing the plain grey cotton to a deep royal violet, following suit for the drapes framing the window. She looked to the bookshelf, it was far too small. With an incantation Hermione extended the shelving by almost double its original length. She spent the next half hour unpacking her belongings by hand, she could have used magic and been done in a fraction on the time, but she enjoyed the methodical nature of the task. Looking around her room, she made a contented sigh, this was to be her home for the remainder of her time at Hogwarts.

She decided to change from her robes, foregoing an evening shower. From her wardrobe she grabbed a pair of cotton pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt, she removed her school clothes, the layers pooling around her feet. Reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, she let it slide from her shoulders and fall to the floor. With the bare skin of her breasts suddenly exposed to the cool night air, Hermione's nipples stiffened in response. She pulled the old t-shirt over her head, preferring not to wear a bra in her sleep. Stepping into the cotton pyjama pants and tugging them up to her hips, she reached down to gather her school clothes. Casting a quick scourgify on the garments she folded and placed them on the chest at the foot of the bed. Remembering her promise to meet Harry back in the common room, she collected her class timetable from her desk and left the room.

Pulling her door closed behind herself, Hermione looked up to see Neville and Harry chatting by the fire. 

"About time 'Mione, was beginning to think you had forgotten us!" Harry laughed. He patted the free space next to him on the couch, "Come have a seat."

Hermione walked over, taking the proffered seat by his side, curling her legs up in front of her, bathing in the warmth of the fire. 

"Sorry I took so long." She began. "I was redecorating my room and unpacking my things, I guess I lost track of time."

"No worries 'Mione, Neville and I were just talking about our new dorm. It's a bit weird being with the other houses don't you think? I'm not sure how I feel about having to share with the Slytherin’s." Harry pulled a face as he looked toward Malfoy’s bedroom door. "I honestly don't know if they should even be here."

Hermione sighed, she would expect this attitude from Ronald but not Harry, and well in all honesty Ron would be much worse. "You said yourself during the trials that you didn't think Malfoy deserved to go to Azkaban Harry."

"I know," Harry said, shaking his head. "I just don't really feel like he deserves to be back here either."

"We have to give them a chance Harry, we have to try and move past out grievances and repair the damage between the school houses like the sorting hat warned." She gave her friend a serious look.

"I think Hermione is right." Neville interjected. "We have to at least give them a chance."

Harry reached up and rubbed at his face. "Ok, Ok, I will try. I'll be civil. I'm not going out of my way to be nice to them though." 

She offered a small smile. "As long as you try." Wanting to change the subject, she looked back over to Neville, "Have either of you had a chance to look over your timetables?" 

It was Neville who responded first, "I had a quick glance at it before I came out. What do you think first period is all about?"

Hermione looked down at the parchment in her hands, studying her own timetable for the first time. She instantly noticed what Neville was referring to. In the box for first period was a class that she had neither heard of, nor signed up for, Restoration. She pondered for a moment what the period might entail, deciding she would just have to wait to morning to find out. Looking over the remainder of the table, the rest of her Monday seemed quite standard. After Restoration was Advanced Arithmancy, followed by Transfiguration, a free period and finally double Potions. Not counting the new class Hermione suddenly realised she didn't even know who the teachers would be for two of her classes tomorrow.

Looking up from her timetable she asked, "Do either of you know who is taking Transfiguration or Potions this year? Or Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies for that matter?" 

Neville shrugged and offered, "I'm not sure. I saw the new Professors at the staff table, I wonder why McGonagall didn't introduce them?"

It was Harry who responded, looking sombre, "I think maybe she didn't want to bring attention to how many we have lost." Looking up and meeting Hermione's gaze he continued, "I only recognised Willow, I'm not sure what she will be teaching though."

"Who?" Hermione and Neville questioned in unison.

Harry looked stunned for a moment, "Oh, I forgot you both wouldn't have met her. Willow Sagehorn, she's an Auror, I met her over the summer at the Ministry. Before I decided to return to Hogwarts for the year, they were trying to convince me to take a fast tracked traineeship. I guess they thought having the 'Chosen One' on their side would help with the Ministry's image." Harry rolled his eyes at this. Hermione knew he hated being referred to by that title. 

Hermione, keen for any information on her new Professor’s, pressed Harry, "What is she like? Do you think she will teach the subject well?"

"I'm honestly not too sure 'Mione, I only met her a few times. She seemed a bit serious but kind enough I guess. She didn't make a big deal out of me being THE Harry Potter, which was kind of refreshing."

Hermione considered this for a moment, "I guess we will just have to wait for class to see what the new Professors are like." 

Looking from Harry to Neville she noticed his heavy eyes as he gazed absently into the now flickering embers of the fire. Realising it must be late by now, she decided she best head to bed for the night, not wanting to be tired for her first class of the year.

"I think we should probably retire for the evening, it looks quite late."

Neville stood sleepily and headed for his room wordlessly, waving a hand over his shoulder as he retreated.

Harry yawned and rose to follow suit, "I'll see you in the morning for breakfast 'Mione." He turned and left for his room.

Left alone by the fires dying embers, she took a moment to consider where she was, back at Hogwarts to complete her schooling. A year ago she thought she might never see this place again. She stood and looked around the common room. For now, this was home. 

Walking back into her room she closed the door behind her. She strolled towards her bed, stripping off her pyjama bottoms, leaving only her old t-shirt and white cotton panties to cover her body. She preferred to sleep without pants, disliking how they would twist and contort on her body. She climbed onto her bed, casting a quick silencing charm on the room before tucking her wand under her pillow. She pulled her heavy covers tight around her neck, soaking in the warmth and sense of comfort they provide. Succumbing to exhaustion, sleep pulled her swiftly into its embrace.


	3. NIGHTMARE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Some content of this chapter is pulled directly from the writing of JK Rowling. I do not own this writing and am simply utilizing it for canonical purposes.

_Hermione stood in the large drawing room of Malfoy Manor, her hands bound along with Ron and Harry. Narcissa Malfoy turned to the werewolf currently holding them hostage, "Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."_

_"Wait," interjected Bellatrix sharply. "All except... except for the Mudblood."_

_To this Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure._

_"NO!" Shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!" _

_Bellatrix lashed out, striking Ron across the face, "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my books. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them... yet."_

_Hermione watched as she tossed the werewolf back his wand and pulled a short silver knife from her robes. She reached down and cut Hermione free from Ron and Harry. Bellatrix grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her into the centre on the room. She could see from the corner of her eye the boys being forced out of the room by Greyback. _

_Bellatrix, her hand still firmly in Hermione's hair, forced her to her knees. Bellatrix stepped back raising her wand at the young witch in front of her. With a crazed smirk she shouted, "Crucio!"_

_Hermione fell face first onto the polished marble floor, her body contorted under the sheer force of the pain she felt. In the distance she heard a blood curdling scream, only it wasn't distant, it was her voice, her scream. Just as she thought the pain would never end, the spell ceased. Bellatrix was lifted Hermione's head from the floor by her hair, kneeling in front of her, she demanded, "where did you get this sword?" _

_Hermione, refusing to answer gazed adamantly down at the floor._

_"Crucio!"_

_The pain burnt through her body once more, ripping from her a deafening scream._

_Again the pain eased and Bellatrix was in front of her. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?" _

_Hermione gathered her strength to spit out an answer, "We found it... we found it... PLEASE!" She screamed as Bellatrix began the Cruciatus Curse a new._

_"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth! CRUCIO!"_

_The pain was becoming unbearable, Hermione's world began to spin. _

_"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you though with this knife!"_

_Hermione saw a glint of silver as Bellatrix crouched down over where she lay, sprawled across the marble on her back. Slowly, Bellatrix dragged the knife across the skin on Hermione's chest, burning as it carved its path. _

_The threats not yielding the results Bellatrix desired, she stood again, stamping her foot like a child and shouted, "What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"_

_Again the pain ripped through her, she tried to search for something, anything, to anchor her to reality. With each use of the Cruciatus Curse she could feel herself slipping away, something deep inside her breaking._

_"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix commanded. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?" _

_"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. She needed to think, she needed to find something Bellatrix could believe, she couldn't let the witch know they had the real sword of Gryffindor._

_"It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" _

_"A copy?" Screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"_

_Lucius's voice drifted into her focus, "But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"_

_Hermione prayed the goblin would lie, they couldn't know the truth. Suddenly she was aware that Bellatrix was straddling her lap, her small silver blade in her grasp. Hermione felt the witches breathe on her ear, "I know you were in my there. What did you take from my vault!"_

_Whimpering Hermione responded, "I wasn't, I didn't take anything!" She felt the material being ripped from her right arm. Once again, she felt the searing pain of Bellatrix's knife upon her skin. Turning her head, she saw the witch was carving crude letters deep into her flesh, M - U - D - B. Hermione looked away, her remaining strength slowly leaving her body. _

_Hermione was vaguely aware that Bellatrix was no longer butchering her skin. She heard the witch a short distance away, "Well? Is it the true sword?"_

_"No," she heard Griphook say. "It is a fake."_

_"Are you sure?" Bellatrix panted. "Quite sure?" _

_"Yes." The goblin replied._

_"Good." Hermione could hear the relief in Bellatrix’s voice. She felt her own sense of relief, they had fooled the witch. Now all she hoped was that Harry and Ron could get away, and finish their task. _

_"And now," Bellatrix announced, her voice triumphant, "we call the Dark Lord!"_

_Hermione felt her grasp on consciousness falter, the voices in the room growing distant._

_"And I think," Said Bellatrix indifferently, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."_

_Greyback grinned wickedly, bearing his sharp, fanged teeth. He pounced on her immediately, his back hunched with a beastly quality. Reaching down, he grabbed a fist full of her now blood matted hair and began to drag her across the marble floor. _

_"Oh no, n-no... NO! This can't be happening," Hermione cried weakly to herself, no one caring to listen to her pleas. She hoped in vain that someone, anyone would come and save her from her fate._

_As if reading her mind, Greyback crouched down and breathed in her ear, "No one is coming to save you little girl, your all mine now!" Growling the last word, he lifted her from the ground by her hair, throwing her like a rag doll through the doorway to the next room. _

_Landing on the cold floor with a thud, Hermione whimpered weakly. Her body was beyond fatigued from the torture and blood loss. She needed to move, she needed to get away from this crazed Werewolf. She needed to survive. A surge of adrenaline radiated throughout her body, rushing to her limbs. Frantically, she started to crawl, to pull herself away from the predator at her heels. Her arms slipped on the smooth floor, slick from the blood oozing from her open wounds. Behind her, Greyback let loose a guttural, manic laugh. She felt him seize her ankle roughly, tugging her back to where she had begun._

Hermione woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and panting heavily. Shivering in a cold sweet, her old t-shirt drenched, sticking to her skin. The nightmares had begun after the war. At first they were mere memories of what had happened, but over time they had changed, evolved. Her fears of what might have been became twisted with reality, until she could barely remember what was real and what was fiction. 

Looking around her, she calmed fractionally, recognising her surroundings as her new room at Hogwarts. Still trying to rein in her breathing, she squinted in the dark. Her room was in shambles, looking as if someone had unleashed a pack of Doxies. Hermione realised that she must have lost control of her magic again while in thrall of her nightmare. Thankful that she had remembered her silencing charm, as not to wake the others. Casting a quick wordless charm, she flicked her wand, her books and belongings began to levitate back to their rightful places. 

The room was still dark and Hermione was uncertain if it was late or very early. Casting another charm, the image of a clock hovered in the air before her. It was a half past four. Knowing she would not get anymore sleep this night, Hermione sighed. Untangling herself from her twisted bedding, she rose from the bed, stretching her sore muscles. Gathering her toiletries and school robes, she left her room. 

The common room was dark, lit only by the flames of a few flickering candles. Casting a Lumos, Hermione headed for the large, ornate, double doors. Placing a hand upon the filigree that covered the dark timber, she pushed. She was surprised to find that the door gave way with ease and in relative silence. Stepping into the bathroom, she was taken aback by its scale. It was not the simple set if cubicles she had expected. With a swish of her wand the candles around the room flickered to life, illuminating the enormous space. On the rooms stone walls hung beautiful tapestries framed by delicate silver candelabras. The centre of the room housed a large sunken bath, similar to the one in the Prefects bathroom. Walking around the baths edge Hermione noted the multiple silver taps. She theorised that these taps would dispense water infused with a wide variety of bubbles and scents. 

Looking up, Hermione noticed four regular timber doors on the rear wall. On inspection, she discovered these cubicles contained two toilets and two simple showers, more in lines with what she had expected to find. She walked up and placed her uniform and toiletries in one of the shower cubicles, then walked back to the bathrooms entrance. She pointed her wand at the large double doors, placing a locking charm and extra wards for good measure, she did not feel like being walked in on. Satisfied no one could enter, she reached for the hem on her old t-shirt, lifting it over her head. She turned, walking back to the shower in only her white cotton panties, her breasts bouncing slightly with each step. Placing her t-shirt on the small bench inside the cubicle, she bent, sliding her panties down her smooth legs. She discarded the undergarment atop her t-shirt, setting her wand down beside it. 

Stepping under the shower, she turned the water on hot, letting it cascade over her body. After her nightmares she always needed the water near scalding, somehow it helped chase the pain of the memory back into the recess of her mind. Hermione glanced down at her right arm, MUDBLOOD haphazardly etched in her skin. Her fingers instinctively traced the raised, angry red scars. The healers had tried to remove them, but Bellatrix's little silver blade had been cursed. She was stuck with the brand for life, not even a concealment charm could hide the damaged skin. She sunk to the floor and wept quietly, letting the steaming water mix with her tears.

She was unsure how long she had sat weeping on the floor, but once she felt she could cry no more, she stood. She washed herself quickly before turning off the water and using her wand to dry her body and hair. She dressed in her uniform and gathered her things. Dispelling her wards and charms, Hermione pulled open the large door. Through the common rooms one large window the sun had just broken over the horizon, illuminating the circular room. In front of the window, the silhouette of a man leant against one of the plush armchairs. Having heard her enter the common room, he strolled towards her. Once near, she realised it was Malfoy walking towards her. Her posture stiffened, expecting the inevitable insult. As he approached, he dipped his head, and spoke softly, "Good morning Granger."

Stunned by his comment, and lack of antagonism, he had entered the bathroom closing the door behind him, before Hermione could even consider a response. She shook her head as if to clear the thought and walked back to her door. Once in her room she deposited her dirty clothes in the basket by the door, the house elves would have them laundered and returned before dinner. She looked at herself in her small mirror and sighed at the state of her hair. Casting a few charms she removed that tangles and calmed her curls as much as she could manage. Grabbing her school bag, she packed the textbooks she would need for the day and headed back to the common room.

Pulling out her Advanced Arithmancy textbook, Hermione curled up in one of the armchairs by the large window. As she soaked in the warmth of the early morning sunrays, it crossed her mind that this was the chair she had seen Malfoy leaning against earlier. Discarding the thought, she opened her textbook and began to reread chapter one.

Some time passed before Hermione was pulled from her reading to the sound of Harry speaking to her, "Merlin 'Mione, how long have you been up for, you're studying before we've even been to class." 

She gave her friend a small smile, taking in his sleepy, dishevelled appearance. "I woke early and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought I would come out here and do some light reading, it doesn't hurt to be prepared." 

He took a seat in the armchair across from her, mumbling a quick scourgify on his teeth before leaning back to close his eyes. Hermione shook her head and looked up to see Neville approaching from the bathroom, his hair still damp. She closed her textbook, tucking it back into her bag. Straightening her robes, she stood and gathered her belongings. 

Noticing her stand, Harry begrudgingly followed suit, and spoke, "Shall we head down for breakfast then?" Hermione gave a small nod and the three of them left together for the Great Hall.

Once they arrived in the Hall, Neville halted in his step and announced nervously, "I think I might go sit at the Ravenclaw table, have breakfast with Luna."

Hermione gave her friend a genuine smile, "Go for it Neville, we will see you later on."

Harry and Hermione found Ginny already seated at the Gryffindor table. Once Harry reached his girlfriend they kissed passionately, as if long lost lovers. Taking a seat opposite the couple, she averted her eyes, not a fan of the public affection. Pouring herself a coffee and buttering some toast, she waited for her friends to come up for air. After what felt a ludicrous amount of time, the couple broke apart, Ginny returning to her breakfast. As Harry began to pile eggs and bacon onto his plate, Hermione seized the opportunity to question him. "So Harry." He looked up to meet her gaze, lifting his eyebrows questioningly. She continued, "I wanted to ask, which one is Professor Sagehorn?" 

"Oh, Willow? She is the one with the short dark hair, sitting next to Professor Sprout." Harry pointed up towards the head table, where the witch in questing sat.

Hermione gave her friend a stern look, "You really should refer to her as Professor Sagehorn, Harry, its disrespectful not to do so. Even if you do know her in a separate capacity."

Harry scoffed, "Ok 'Mione, I'll try keep that in mind." His attention wandered back to his girlfriend. 

Hermione, knowing she wasn't likely to be included in much more of their conversation, turned her attention to the new Professor he had pointed out. She was young, not too much older than themselves. Her hair was pitch black and strait, styled in a neat pixie cut. A deep purple scar marred her left cheek, giving her the appearance of a slight one sided smile. Her brows were furrowed, creasing in the middle, as she listened intently to Professor Sprout as she spoke. If Hermione was to place a wager, she would put her Galleons on Professor Willow Sagehorn being their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. 

She spent the remainder of breakfast observing Professor Sagehorn and the other three new staff members. She had her theories on which Professor would teach each subject, based off their interaction and behaviours. She would find it interesting to see if her profiles were accurate. As students began to filter out of the Hall to head to their first classes of the year, Neville approached the Gryffindor table. Hermione looked up at her friend, he wasn't the awkward looking boy he had once been, and in fact he had grown into quite a handsome man. She gave him a smile and asked, "How was your breakfast with Luna?" 

Neville's face lit up, his smile broad, "It was great, shes great." Blushing slightly at his own candour he looked over at Harry and Ginny, who were still engrossed in their own conversation. His brow creased slightly, "You don't mind me sitting there do you? I don't want to leave you on your own."

"Don't worry Neville, I'm fine, honestly. Enjoy your meals with her, we will have time to catch up in our common room." Hermione, although feeling a slight creeping loneliness, really was happy that her friends had found love and companionship. She wondered absently if she would ever find that for herself.

Saving her from her melancholy train of thought, Harry, having at last concluded his thorough farewell to Ginny, turned to Neville and herself and said, "So, shall we go find out what this Restoration class is all about then?"


	4. RESTORATION

Hermione left the Great Hall with Harry and Neville, the three of them heading to a classroom in the west wing together. As they walked they speculated as to what the new subject may entail. Approaching the classroom that had been specified on their timetables, she noticed Malfoy walking a short distance ahead of them. It was strange seeing him on his own she mused, without his entourage of goons or sycophants. She watched as he entered the classroom, the three of them following not far behind. 

The classroom was in an obvious state of disuse. Mismatched desks and chairs were piled along one wall, coated heavily in dust. All the Eighth years had arrived, save for Pansy Parkinson and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Suddenly Parkinson could be heard drawling on the other side of the door, "Get out of my way you filthy Mudblood, I shouldn't have to wait around for the likes of you."

The door opened, Parkinson abruptly brushing past Justin as she entered the classroom. She looked down disgustedly at where her shoulder had touched him, reaching up as if to brush away some dirt. 

Repulsed by not only the continuation, but the brazen display of her bigoted ideals, Hermione felt the need to come to the Hufflepuff’s defence, "Your outdated views on blood purity are not welcome here Parkinson."

Parkinson's head whipped around to face Hermione, sneering with contempt, "Well well, if it isn't the little Mudblood whore."

Before Hermione or the others had the chance to rebut Professor McGonagall entered the classroom. McGonagall’s eyes narrowed as they swept across group, she asked sternly, "What is going on here?"

Parkinson, tilting her head over so slightly, replied sweetly, "Oh, nothing at all Headmistress."

Unwilling to give Parkinson the satisfaction of showing that the words had affected her, she remained silent, the others following her lead. When no one spoke to contradict the Slytherin girl, the Headmistress continued further into the room, closing the door behind her. 

The tension between the students was evident as McGonagall began her discourse, "I am sure you are all curious regarding your presence here." 

Hermione as well as a few of the others nodded their agreement at the Headmistress's presumption. 

"You are here," she continued, "as the school board has determined that it would be appropriate for the eight of you to take part in a compulsory extracurricular activity." 

Hermione was intrigued, looking around not everyone in the group seemed as please. Harry and Neville visibly deflated, she guessed that they were not fond of the prospect of a higher work load.

Observing their varied reactions, McGonagall elaborated, "You are to be separated into groups of two and given a series of tasks to complete over the span of the school year. Your pairing and assignments have been predetermined, based on your skillsets and house affiliations." 

Abruptly Parkinson interrupted, "House affiliations?" She looked almost hopefully up at Malfoy, fluttering her eyelids in way that made Hermione want to gag.

"I am afraid Miss Parkinson that you misunderstand me, you will not be paired with those of your own house. In fact the pairings have been established in the hopes of promoting inter house unity."

Pansy looked stricken, realising that she would not be spending the year coupled with the other Slytherin. Hermione noted however that Malfoy looked almost pleased by the revelation, a slight smirk spreading across his face. 

Hermione could not contain her curiosity any longer, turning back the Headmistress she asked, "Professor, what exactly are to be our tasks?"

"Well Miss Granger, as the title on your timetable suggests, you are going to help restore the areas of the castle that were damaged during the battle. Although we have repaired much of the damage to return the school to a functioning level, some key areas remain in dire need of restoration. Each pair will be assigned an area and series of key tasks to accomplish." 

Parkinson scoffed, "And why should we do this?"

McGonagall looked disappointedly at the Slytherin girl, "Well Miss Parkinson, I would hope that you would all like to see this school returned to its full potential. However, the board of directors and I are aware that some you may require further motivation. Those of you who successfully complete your assigned restoration workloads, to a satisfactory level, will be presented an honour that will be beneficial to your prospects post Hogwarts. The Ministry of Magic have agreed that those deserving will be awarded, upon graduation, the Order of Merlin Third Class, for services to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hermione was surprised by this revelation, an Order of Merlin, even Third Class, would be an extraordinary addition to their resumes and employment prospects. Looking around the group the two Ravenclaw’s, Michael and Anthony, were evidently excited by prospect. They were huddled together, speaking quickly in hushed tones. Even Neville was looking enthusiastic, Hermione could overhear him as he whispered to Harry, "My Grandma would be so proud if I got that!"

McGonagall cleared her throat, halting the murmured conversations. "As I call your names can each pair please come forward and collect your area maps and task lists," stated McGonagall. As she waved her wand, an assortment of scrolls appearied on the desk top to her left. Picking up the first pile of scrolls, the Headmistress read the inscription a loud, "Potter, Corner, East Wing."

Harry and Michael walked forward, collecting the scrolls from McGonagall before returning to the group.

"Parkinson, Goldstein, Foundations." 

Pansy huffed irritably, leaving Anthony to step forward and collect the documents on his own. He returned to stand by her side, clearly uncomfortable in her presence.

"Longbottom, Finch-Fletchley, Grounds."

Hermione, comprehending who she would be partnered with, felt her stomach twist. Lifting her head, she glimpsed Malfoys eyes on her, an unreadable expression crossed his face momentarily.

"Granger, Malfoy, Library."

Harry appeared to have not realised they were the last two, his head snapping up upon hearing their names. A deep frown consumed his face and he glared across the room at Malfoy as he spoke, "If he so much as looks at you wrong, I swear..." 

Hermione reached out to touch his shoulder gently before heading towards McGonagall. Malfoy had reached the Headmistress before her and was in the process of collecting their scrolls. He turned, offering her half the pile. Taking the proffered parchment, they returned to the group together.

Having distributed all the paperwork McGonagall continued, "These scrolls contain all the information you will require in regards to your designated areas and tasks. You will have noticed on your timetables, that you have been assigned times in which to accomplish your restoration tasks. You are expected to work unsupervised and unaided, although I shall be available in my office if you have inquiries at any time. Please take the remainder of this period to look over the provided information carefully." The Headmistress turned, exiting the room before anyone had the opportunity to question her.

Hermione glanced around, most of the others had started to pull the old chairs and tables out, unfurling their scrolls.

She belatedly registered that Malfoy had spoken, turning to him she asked, "sorry, what did you say?"

Malfoy's eyes darted to Parkinson for a moment, then back to meet hers, "I asked, would you like to go to the library? We can see what we have to work with while we look over this information."

Hermione was taken aback by his lack of animosity towards her. Realising that he was staring at her, awaiting her response she stuttered, "Oh, uh, y-yeah, let’s go." 

After giving Harry and Neville a quick wave goodbye, she turned leaving the classroom, Malfoy quick on her heels. They walked in silence towards the Library, a small distance separating them.

Entering the Library, Hermione headed straight to Madam Pince's desk. After explaining their purpose, the Librarian led Malfoy and herself to a poorly lit alcove. Looking around the sizeable space, Hermione was overwhelmed by the sight. The wall at the rear of the alcove looked as if it had been hit by a blasting spell, having collapsed in on itself. Chunks of crumbling stone and splintered shelving littered the floor. Strewn across the centre of the room were extensive piles of damaged parchments, scrolls, and tomes.

Hermione stood gaping at the damage before her, the task ahead verging on daunting, even for her. Tearing her gaze away from the desecrated alcove and turning to Malfoy, she asked, "shall we have a look at our instructions then?"

Without awaiting a response, Hermione withdrew her wand from her robes and cast a silent charm, transfiguring a heap of broken shelving into a small desk and two chairs. Depositing her half of the scrolls onto the tabletop, she took a seat. Placing her wand, lit with a Lumos, at an angle that illuminated the table, she began to unravel the first scroll.

She remained staring at the parchment in front of her for a long moment, finding herself becoming increasingly irritated. She turned to face Malfoy where he still stood and raising an eyebrow, she queried, "Are you going to join me?"

Malfoy, averting his eyes from her, tentatively sat in the remaining seat.

Hermione was beginning to become frustrated with their limited interactions as well as uncertain of Malfoys intentions. Turning her whole body in her seat so she was facing him directly, she demanded, "What the hell Malfoy? What is with you? No snide remarks? No veiled threats? Not even muttered 'Mudblood' under your breath?" She tapped her foot impatiently, awaiting his response. 

Malfoy inhaled deeply before releasing a long, drawn out sigh. "What do you want me to say Granger? Do you want me to lay my heart on the line? Tell you I'm so very sorry for everything I have ever done to you? We both know you wouldn't take that on face value. Can we please just get on with the work?"

He returned to his own half of the scrolls and began to unfurl the parchment. Hermione reached over, snatching the documents from in front of Malfoy. Pulling some spare parchment from her school bag, she began to duplicate the paperwork with the use of a spell. Once completed she pushed one of the resulting copies back to Malfoy’s half of the desk. They worked in silence for the remainder of the period, studying their separate set of notes and instructions. It would appear from what Hermione had read so far, that they were to repair the areas of the library that had suffered physical damage during the battle. The more formidable task they had been assigned however, was to read, categorize, and repair or reproduce the enormous mound of texts piled within the alcove that they sat. 

Hermione was suddenly pulled from her reading by the sound of Malfoy standing and gathering his things. He glanced down at her, "We should get going Granger our next class will be starting soon." He turned, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder, and left her alone at the small table.

Gathering her things quickly, Hermione hastily left the alcove, not wanting to be late for her second class of the year. She was surprised to find Malfoy awaiting her, leaning casually against the Library's doorframe. Before she had a chance to ask, he answered her unspoken question, "I'm guessing you're taking Advanced Arithmancy also? I thought we might as well walk together."

She looked at him for a moment, her brow furrowed, trying to understand his motivations. She gave him a small shrug, deciding that she might as well walk with him, they were after all headed to the same place. 

Draco, acknowledging her response, held his hand out towards the hallway, "After you then."

Leaving the Library they walked side by side, although both were careful to ensure they remained at arm's length. Together they made their way to the third floor in silence. Reaching the Arithmancy classroom, they separated and headed for their individual desks without saying a word.

As Professor Vector lectured the small class on an intricate set of number charts, Hermione found herself drawn to the back Malfoy's blonde head. The few interactions they had shared since her departure from the Hogwarts Express, played on repeat through her mind. He was different now, after the war. He had been civil towards her, no insults or remarks regarding her blood status. What he had said in the Library, that she wouldn't accept his apology on face value, which he was correct in assuming. However, did that imply that he in fact regretted his past actions towards her and wished to apologise? Perhaps he was simply attempting to avoid confrontation while under scrutiny for the length if his probation. Hermione sighed, no closer to understanding the Slytherins intentions. She returned her attention to her copy of Numerology and Grammatica, making an effort to focus on her equations for the remainder of the lesson.

Malfoy did not wait for her after Arithmancy like he had in the Library. He had slipped out with the Seventh year students, with whom they shared the class. Arriving at the Transfiguration classroom, she entered, and began to look for a seat. Looking around it appeared that most of the class had already arrived. With the Eighth years sharing this class with the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Seventh years, Neville and Harry had both already found themselves desks with their respective girlfriends. At the very back of the room, she spotted two free seats. One was next to a Seventh year Ravenclaw boy, whose name she could not recall, the other beside Malfoy. Hermione taking a seat next to Ravenclaw boy, smiled politely while she began to unpack her parchment and quills.

As she finished straightening her things on the desk in front of her, the classroom door swung open. The new professor strode into the room with long, gracefully steps. Reaching the front of the room, he turned to face the class, introducing himself, "Greetings, I will be your new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Oberon Hale." 

His voice was deep and smooth, yet highly refined. Hermione was surprised to see that he was quite young, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties. He was tall and well-built with the slightest of tans tinting his skin. Noting his straight nose and square jaw, Hermione found his feature's to be distinctly masculine. He was overall an exceptionally attractive man, with his dark ebony eyes, long dark lashes, and slick black hair. Despite herself, she found herself swoon ever so slightly over his appearance. Gazing around the room, she noted that she was not the only student affected by his looks. Most of the females in the class, and even one Seventh year boy, seemed to be ogling the new professor to some degree.

Interrupting her train if thought, Professor Hale continued, "I am aware that for that many of you, the last year of your studies has proven to be especially inconsistent. As such, I am under the impression that the students of this class may possess varying levels of knowledge and skill. As to ascertain the degree of your individual competence, I find it necessary to conduct an exam of sorts."

At this announcement, most of the class let out a collective groan of displeasure. 

Professor Hale withdrew his wand, with a wave he transfigured his desk into an elegant black panther. The beast crouched as if readying to pounce, a student in the front row letting out a loud gasp. Hale, with a flick of his wand, returned the animal to its original form.

"I shall call you forth one at a time, you are to transfigure my desk into an animal of your own choosing and then return it to this form. You are to be evaluated on both the quality of the transformation and the complexity of creature selected. Now let us begin, Longbottom."

Neville's dismay at being selected first was evident. He stood and shuffled forward nervously. Pointing his wand at the desk, he mumbled the incantation. The desk morphed into a large tortoise. Neville relieved the transformation worked, stood a little straighter, before returning the animal to its previous form. 

Professor Hale inclined his head slightly, "Thank you Mr Longbottom, you may return to your seat. Your transformation was adequate, although the shell appeared to retain a minute rectangular quality. I would prefer to see something marginally more intimidating, as you are all aware the ferocity of the creature directly effects the difficulty of the transformation. Now, Miss Weasley if you could come forward please."

Ginny took her place at the front of the class. Swiftly she transformed the wooden desk into a proud lioness, allowing the large cat to roar before reverting the spell. Clearly pleased with her own efforts, Ginny turned her head, smiling broadly at Harry.

"Well done Miss Weasley." Professor Hale noted, "Very fitting for the young Gryffindor to choose the lioness, you may return to your seat. Next, Granger."

Hermione made her way to the front briskly, eager to prove herself in front of the new professor. Grasping her wand and correcting her stance, she cast the incantation wordlessly. The desk twisted and distorted, taking on the form of a large Manticore. At the sight of the beast, a few of her classmates shrieked, drawing its attention. Professor Hale steadied his want at the creature, ready to strike. The effort was unwarranted however, as Hermione promptly and competently reversed the transformation. 

Professor Hale lowered his wand, "very impressive Miss Granger, it appears what they say about you may be true after all. I was not expecting anyone to transfigure a magical beast, with a non-verbal incantation none the less. Ten points to Gryffindor, you may take your seat. 

The professor called upon student after student. As the lesson progressed the old wooden desk was transformed into all manner of creature, from boar to hound. 

"Lastly, Mr Malfoy," Hale announced, calling the Slytherin to the front of the class. Hermione watched intently as he readied his wand. Malfoy spoke the incantation but the desk remained unchanged. A few of the Seventh years sniggered and began to whisper amongst themselves. He closed his eyes, drawing a deep, slow breath. Opening his eyes, he cast the spell again. This time the desk transformed into a magnificent Hippogriff, Malfoy bowed deeply at the creature before raising his wand and returning it to its original form.

"Well Mr Malfoy, aside from your faulty start, you demonstration was acceptable," The Professor began, sounding unimpressed. I am sure you are aware by now that I have been appointed the new Slytherin Head of House. I am familiar with the favouritism my predecessor openly showered upon yourself and your peers. I can assure you, you will receive no such partiality from I. I shall expect better of you in future, now return to your seat. 

Hermione was shocked by the Professor's dismissal of Malfoy's Transfiguration. Discounting her wordless incantation, his example had been no less impressive than her own. Professor Hale was going far beyond refusing Malfoy favouritism, in her opinion his treatment of the Slytherin was condescending and unjust.

She looked up from her desk, realising class had ended and her fellow students were filing out of the room. Gathering her things, she followed, hastening to find her friends already on their way to the Great Hall for lunch.


	5. DISCLOSURE

Arriving at the Great Hall Hermione headed straight for the Gryffindor table. On her way she noticed Neville and Luna seated together at the Ravenclaw table. Luna was waving her hands animatedly around her head as she conversed energetically with her partner. Neville sat, his posture relaxed, as he smiled and listened to his girlfriend. Hermione was glad they had found each other, they both deserved the happiness. Approaching the Gryffindor table she could see Harry and Ginny, both consumed in each other’s company. Neither greeted Hermione as she took her seat. She let out a small sigh as she served herself some soup and began tearing a bread roll in half. If her first day back was anything to go by, this was turning out to be a very lonely year. Dropping her gaze from the happy couple Hermione realised that while engrossed in her thoughts, she had reduced her bread roll to near crumbs. Having lost her appetite, she stood and left the Hall, not bothering to say farewell. 

Wandering the corridors, Hermione pondered if she should return to the common room to begin the homework she had been assigned so far. Noting that she had a free period next, she acknowledged she would have plenty of free time to study later. Instead she decided to do something she had been desperately avoiding. Stopping in the corridor, she turned and headed the opposite direction, towards the Hospital Wing.

In no time she found herself in the hallway outside the Hospital Wing, trying to find the courage to enter. Inhaling deeply, she steadied her nerves and stepped across the threshold. She saw Madam Pomfrey to her right, bent over a hospital bed. As she approached she could see a young boy, possibly only a Second or Third year, he apprehensively swallowed the potion the Matron had handed him, wincing at the taste. Madam Pomfrey spotted Hermione near the entrance, closing the curtain around the young boy’s hospital bed, she walked over and asked in a kind voice, "Miss Granger, what can I do for you today?"

Hermione disliked talking about her issues with anyone, but she was becoming desperate for help to stop her nightmares. She would be able to competently brew the potion herself, but unfortunately one of the ingredients was a controlled substance. Averting her eyes and looking to the floor uncomfortably, she mumbled, "I... I would like some Dreamless Sleep potion please."

Madam Pomfrey looked at Hermione, concern crossing her features, "I am afraid Miss Granger that I cannot prescribe that particular potion without a thorough evaluation. Would you like to follow me to my office, I will need to ask you some questions."

Hermione had expected this, yet a small part of her had hoped that she would be given the draught without having to delve into her fragile mental health. Conceding to the evaluation, she followed Madam Pomfrey into the small office. The Matron closed the door behind them, locking the door and casting a silencing charm for privacy. Taking a seat in the chair behind her desk, she raised her hand, indicating Hermione take the one opposite. Once she was seated, Pomfrey queried, "So tell me Miss Granger, why do you require the Dreamless Sleep potion?"

Thinking over it all, Hermione didn't know where to begin, "Well, I guess I should start at the beginning, actually in a way I guess it was the end, the end of the War. During the summer after the final battle I spent some time in Australia. It was there that the nightmares began. They were getting worse and I was losing so much sleep. I decided to find a healer, a Wizard named Doctor Ainsley, he was trained in both Magical and Muggle medicine. He had studied a Muggle science called Psychology, and I visited him many times for therapy sessions. He listened to my experiences and the issues I was having after the War, he diagnosed me with a condition called PTSD."

Madam Pomfrey looked intrigued, "Please explain dear, what is this PTSD?"

Hermione had not known the Matron’s degree of familiarity with Muggle medicine or terms. She had hoped however that Pomfrey would at least know a little, it appeared that was not the case. She groaned inwardly, the Wizarding world could benefit in so many ways, if only they would embrace Muggle innovations and science. Hoping to be able to explain, in a way Pomfrey would understand, Hermione began to describe the condition.

"PTSD is an acronym for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, it is a Muggle term for a sickness of the mind. People who go through very traumatic events can sometimes relive these moments in flashbacks or nightmares. They can also suffer from anxiety, depression and even insomnia."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly as Hermione spoke, appearing to comprehend what she had heard. 

"So, Miss Granger, you are saying you have experienced some of these symptoms?"

Hermione broke her eye contact with the Matron to look to the floor and replied, "I, uh, am experiencing all of these symptoms."

Frowning, the Matron queried, "Forgive me Miss Granger, I know Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and yourself did not have the easiest of times while on the run this past year. But what could have possibly troubled you so, as to affect you in this way, when many others whom participated in the final battle are perfectly fine." 

Hermione scoffed at the Wizarding world's lack of understanding surrounding mental health. Irritated, she responded, "I highly doubt that everyone who participated in the final battle is, as you say, perfectly fine!"

"I did not intend to offend you Miss Granger, it is only that I have strict guidelines to adhere to when prescribing this particular potion. I am afraid I am going to need to understand the nature of your nightmares as I cannot, in good conscience, provide such a potentially addictive draught for some simple bad dreams." 

Indignant at the Matron’s dismissal of her experiences, Hermione replied brusquely, "If you must know, I was tortured!"

The Matron appeared momentarily taken aback by this revelation. "I was not made aware of such events, there was no record in any of the Death Eater trials." 

Upset by the implication she would lie about these events, she pulled back her sleeve revealing the angry red scarring that marred her smooth skin. Madam Pomfrey's eyes bulged in shock as she stared at the grotesque word carved deeply into Hermione’s flesh. Hermione continued, "I was wounded, branded, and had the Cruciatus Curse used on me countless times. The reason you did not hear about it in any of the trials is because I did not wish to become a public spectacle and have people look at me as you do now. There was already enough evidence to send Bellatrix away for multiple lifetimes, so I asked the Minister that my torture not be added to public record." 

Madam Pomfrey looked away, almost shamefully, before asking, "So it is these events you are being troubled by in your sleep?"

Hermione sighed and admitted, "Yes, most of the time it is just the memory of what happened to me. Though over time they have become worse, merging into what I feared may have happened if I had not been saved. I dread going to sleep, and often wake before dawn. I am concerned that if this continues my studies this year will be impacted."

The Matron's expression softened slightly, almost resembling sympathy, "Very well, under the circumstances, I find it acceptable to provide you with a set amount of Dreamless Sleep Potion." 

Flicking her wand, Pomfrey used the Accio charm to summon a vial of purple liquid. Passing the draught to Hermione she continued, "Take two large sips each night before sleep. The potion will make you quite drowsy so please take only once in bed. This dose, when taken correctly, will last you seven days. Please return to me each Monday for a refill. Now, I must check on my other patients."

Madam Pomfrey rose from her seat and Hermione followed suit. Carefully wrapping the vial in a scrap of cloth, she placed in in her bag and left the Hospital Wing.

Hermione returned to the Eighth year dormitory, delicately stowing the potion vial in her bedside drawer. Gathering a textbook, some parchment, as well as her quill and ink, she set herself up at her small desk. For the remainder of her free period, she sat in silence, completing her small selection of homework.

Descending into the dungeons for her double Potions lesson, Hermione froze on the stairs. Panic gripped her and a heavy weight began to settle against her sternum as her breath hastened. She was suddenly aware that the steps on which she stood were the only way in or out of the dungeons. Claustrophobia seized her, feeling trapped, she had to fight the urge to instantly turn and run. 

From behind her came Pansy's voice, "What in Salazar's name is the holdup Granger, move!" Hermione felt something hard collide with the back of her shoulder. Suddenly there was a loud squeal, Hermione's head snapping in the direction of the high pitched noise. Dangling in the air by her ankles was Pansy Parkinson. The girl thrashed, her robes and school skirt falling to reveal her skimpy black underwear. Pansy began to scream, "Let me down from here this instant, you dirty fucking Mudblood! Who do you think you are?" 

All Hermione could do was stand and stare at the girl as she dangled, hoisted in the air like some strung up swine. The panic was unrelenting, what had happened? Had she lost control of her magic again? Was this her doing? Should she let the raging Slytherin down? Before Hermione could regain control of the situation, Parkinson fell, with a thud, into a crumbled heap on the stone steps.

Parkinson pulling herself up from the ground with an audible groan, wiped away a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. Glaring past Hermione she screamed again, "What the fuck Malfoy? Why didn't you let me down softly?"

Hermione turned, wide eyed, to see Malfoy standing on the steps behind her, his wand still pointed at Parkinson. 

The Slytherin witch turned her sneer back on Hermione, "You're going to pay for that Mudblood!" Parkinson launched at her as Hermione shut her eyes tight, unable to react in her current state.

"Malfoy what are you doing? Let me at her!" Hermione heard Parkinson shout, the sound of her harsh voice becoming increasingly distant. 

Opening her eyes, Hermione could see Malfoy physically restraining the girl as he dragged her down the corridor. Malfoy turned his head, his eyes meeting Hermione's. For the briefest moment, concern crossed his features. Their eye contact broke, an instant later the pair of Slytherin’s had disappeared down the dimly lit hall. Hermione was once again left alone on the steps, trying desperately to calm her breath.

Steadying herself, Hermione began to move, one small step at a time, towards the Potions classroom. Entering the room, she could see Malfoy and Parkinson arguing at a desk on the far side. Averting her gaze, she spotted Harry next to an empty stool. The Eighth years were rostered to have Potions with the Ravenclaw Seventh years, hence Ginny's absence. As she took a seat next to Harry, he lifted his head, greeting her with a wide smile. 

"Hey 'Mione, feels like I haven't seen you all day!" Harry declared.

Hermione felt moderately annoyed by his statement. She had been in close proximity to him for the majority of the day, his attention was simply elsewhere. Not wanting to make a fuss over the situation, she decided to change the subject, "Hi Harry, do you have any idea who the new Potions Master will be?"

Before Harry could respond, a short woman in long black robes emerged through the doorway. Despite her size, something about her presence commanded attention. The room fell silent, all eyes falling to where she stood. Hermione surveyed the new teacher, taking in her appearance. She was clearly middle aged, an array of creases lined her angular face. The Professor's ash blonde hair was pulled tight into a neat bun atop her head. Her posture was straight and rigid, and she held her chin tilted ever so slightly upwards. When she spoke, her voice reflected her stern appearance. 

"Greetings students, I am the schools new Potions Master, Professor Amber Stoutwood. I expect you all to listen carefully and follow my every direction diligently. Now, pair up and turn to page one hundred and twenty six in your textbooks. I expect the potion to be complete by lessons end. Begin."

Hermione extracted her Potions textbook, turning to the aforementioned page. Harry surfaced from rummaging through his back pack and scratched at his scalp nervously, "Um, 'Mione, I must have left my textbook in my room. Would you mind telling me what we need to do?"

She smiled at her friend, "Sure Harry, I'll read it to you. It appears we are required to brew the Fertility Potion. According to the texts it was invented in 1852 by Edric Selwyn, to aid in the alleviation of reproductive issues within the Pureblood community."

Hermione read through the list of ingredients, passing Harry the first selection and instructing him in how to slice and prepare them correctly. As they worked, she peered over to where Parkinson and Malfoy sat, the pair appeared to have concluded their argument, although the lingering tension between the two was evident. Parkinson appeared to be sitting back, leaving Malfoy to brew the potion on his own. Hermione's attention was drawn back to their own potion as Harry completed the last set of counter clockwise stirs.

"Ok, stop stirring now Harry. Next we need to add three hairs from the head of a Veela." 

Hermione dropped in the long shinning hairs into the cauldron, as soon as they touched the concoctions surface the potion turned a brilliant, shimmering silver.

"Perfect. Now one last step, we just need to add six drops of Wood Nymph ejaculate." Hermione informed Harry.

Stricken, Harry demanded, "Oh Merlin! That better not be what I think it is!"

Hermione chuckled, "It's a fertility potion Harry, it's exactly what you think it is. 

Harry paled as she lifted the pipette and squeezed exactly six drops of the pearly liquid into the cauldron. As the last drop hit the surface the potion cleared, turning a translucent pale pink. Hermione beamed as she extinguished the flame under the cauldron, the potion looked exactly as the book described it should.

Professor Stoutwood appeared at the table causing Hermione to flinch, she had not noticed the small witch approaching. Standing on her toes to peer into their cauldron, the Potions Master gave a short nod of approval.

"Well done Mr Potter, Miss Granger, twenty points to Gryffindor." 

Harry bottled their potion samples as Hermione began to pack away their things. Professor Stoutwood circled the room, critiquing the various student’s attempts at brewing the complex potion. Hermione noted that the only other student to be awarded points for their effort was Malfoy, though she wasn't entirely surprised. After all he had always displayed a talent for brewing potions. 

The Potions Master had returned to the front of the room and addressed the class, "For our next lesson I expect you all to have written twelve inches on the properties and uses of Veela hair. You are dismissed."

Stools screeched across the stone floor as the students rose to leave. Luna and Neville wandered over towards Harry and herself, together they departed, heading for the Great Hall as a group. 

Reaching the Hall for dinner, Hermione paused turning to Luna and her boyfriend, she asked, "Why don't the two of you come sit at the Gryffindor table tonight?" Neville shrugged, looking to his witch, she smiled brightly, and enthusiastically nodded her agreement. As the four of them reached the long table, Ginny stood and threw herself at Harry. The couple began to kiss passionately, causing Hermione to turn away, feeling uncomfortable witnessing their public display. 

As they ate, Harry turned to Hermione and Neville and queried, "Are you guys coming back to the Gryffindor common room after dinner?"

Neville blushed, "Oh, uh not tonight Harry. I think Luna and I are going to go for a walk through the grounds."

Smiling up at him, Luna added, "Yes, it's such a good night to look for Flutterflies, don't you think?" 

Neville's face deepened a shade of red as he looked intently at his plate, pushing around some food with his fork.

Hermione decided it was best not to ask, she instead answered Harry's question, "Not tonight Harry. I didn't sleep very well last night, so I think I will just head back to our dormitory and have an early night."

After dinner, she bid her four friends goodnight and returned to the Eighth year dormitory. As she entered the portrait hole, she noted that the other Eighth years must have decided to venture elsewhere for the evening. The common room was deserted and dim, the coals in the fireplace unlit. Gathering her pyjamas and toiletries from her room, she headed for the bathroom.

As she reached the entrance of the grand bathroom, the large ornate door opened, Hermione froze. Before her stood Malfoy, dressed only in a white towel that hung low on his hips, water dripping over his taut skin. Years of Quidditch had left him with a seekers build, lean but muscular. She watched as a water drop fell from his jaw, landing on his toned peck, it rolled slowly down over the ridges of his chiselled abdomen, her eyes tracing its path. The drop falling into his Adonis Belt, disappearing into the patch of dark blonde public hair that peaked from above his towel. Hermione swallowed, her eyes snapping back up to meet his. He smirked as he ran his fingers through his wet hair.


	6. REFLECTION

As Granger's eyes met his a blush began to spread across her cheeks. Draco smirked and combed his long, nimble fingers through his damp hair. She had definitely been checking him out he mused. Thinking about the way her eyes had roamed his body caused his cock to twitch. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, he couldn't let himself think about her that way. He couldn't do this, not now. Deciding it best to extract himself from the situation, he side stepped to move past her. He turned and made his way towards his bedroom door in long strides. Upon reaching his door he turned to look at her one last time. Granger remained where he had left her only moments before, not having moved so much as a single muscle, clutching her toiletries protectively against her chest. Draco smirked and called out, "Goodnight Granger, sleep well." Not waiting to see if she would respond, he whispered his password and entered the room.

The awkwardly shaped room was furnished with dark ebony timber, his bedding rich emerald silk. Pulling the towel from his waist, he dried himself as he strode towards the bed. He collapsed a top the smooth silk, not bothering to clothe his naked form. As he lay, his mind drifted over his time spent back at the ancient school since he had stepped foot from the Hogwarts Express.

_Draco departed from the train that had returned him to this place for the final time, emerging onto a bustling platform. Looking around he carefully surveyed his surroundings. There were hurried whisperers and the occasional glare in his direction, but that was to be expected, after all the Death Eater had returned to Hogwarts. He allowed himself a small sigh before lifting his chin and resolutely moving onwards. Something a short distance away caught his eye and his step faltered. In front of him was a mass of wild brown hair, stock still as if an island in a sea of moving students. Instinctively he approached her and began to lift his arm as if he thought to touch her. Suddenly she stumbled backwards from the crowd. Draco felt her elbow collide with his abdomen, a tremendous jolt radiating through his core. Abruptly he felt himself be knocked from his feet. Landing on his back, he opened his eyes to the sky above. As he pulled himself into a sitting position he let out a low groan as a tenderness pain spread through his ribs._

_From his seated position on the platform he called out to the Gryffindor, "What in Salazar's name was that Granger?" _

_Her head snapped around to face him, a frantic quality glazed over her eyes. Draco picked himself up from the ground and, gaining no response, found himself beginning to become concerned for the witch._

_Stepping towards her he continued, "Granger, you just Stupefied me."_

_"I... I'm s-sorry Malfoy." She stuttered feebly in reply._

_Draco found himself shocked by her stammer, so used to her confident nature. It occured to him that something was not right with the Gryffindor girl, and somehow, that bothered him deeply._

_"Don't worry about it." He replied softly._

_Unsure of what else he should say to her, he turned away. Sliding his hands into his pockets he stalked off towards the carriages._

Inhaling deeply Draco sat upright, combing his fingers through his hair as he swung his legs over the beds edge. He expelled the air from his lungs slowly as he stood, walking towards the rooms small window. Leaning against the stone ledge, moonlight danced across his smooth, pale skin. He looked out across the castle grounds, his mind engrossed by thoughts of the bushy haired Gryffindor.

_As he sat in the Great Hall awaiting the sorting feast, Draco gazed down the long Slytherin table. It appeared many of the students from his house had not returned this year. He speculated that either they or their parents had wanted to disassociate themselves from his, and many of his peers, allegiance during the war. The distribution of the students along the bench was sparse, although he noted the vacancy around where he sat was particularly prominent. Draco was found himself stunned as a figure seated themselves to his immediate right. He looked up to meet the dark, dull eyes of Pansy Parkinson. He groaned inwardly, of all the people to return to Hogwarts, why did it have to be her? _

_"Hello Draco." Pansy purred, in a way in which he could only surmised she considered seductive._

_"Pansy." Draco replied apathetically, returning his gaze back to the vast Hall, unwilling to encourage her advances. _

_Draco had once seen a future with the Slytherin witch, not a pleasant future he would have chosen for himself, but a future nonetheless. It was common knowledge amongst their circle that the pair were to be arranged to marry. Accepting his fate and playing the part of the perfect Pureblood heir, Draco had commenced a relationship with the girl. Although he could not deny the perks an all too willing girlfriend provided a hormonal teenage boy, he had never developed any affections towards the girl. In fact as time passed he found himself increasingly reluctant to spend any time in her presence. _

_Applause erupted around him from his fellow Slytherins, prompting Draco to focus on his immediate surroundings. It appeared the sorting ceremony had begun, a small dark haired boy walked towards their table. The boy Draco recognised as the Burke's youngest son, his chin was held high with a smug look plastered across his thin face. Looking away from the young Slytherin, Draco noted the applause from his table were not being mimicked in earnest throughout the Great Hall. His eyes came to rest on the back of Granger's head, she appeared to be the only student, outside his house, that was applauding with vigour for the small boy. The scene across the Hall peaked his interest, as Granger clapped enthusiastically, others around her applauded absently, if at all. The Weasley girl however sat stoically with her arms crossed rigidly against her chest, a scowl upon her freckled face. Draco watched as the Red head and Granger began to argue, saint Potter sat awkwardly to the side evidently unwilling to interject. He could almost see the bushy haired Gryffindor's magic spark around her as she reached up to rub at her temple in frustration. _

_With the sudden appearance of the feast the pairs argument seemingly diminished, the Weasley girl besotted with her food similar to her pig of a brother. Draco watched Granger from across the Hall as he picked inattentively at his own meal. It was clear even without hearing their debate, that Granger had been reprimanding her friends for their disdainful attitude towards to young Slytherin. It did not surprise Draco that she would come to the child’s defence, or even that of his more innocent Slytherin peers. Though he couldn't help but wonder if she, in all her ingrained virtue, could find it within herself to forgive him. Draco dropped his gaze and rubbed at his left forearm uncomfortably. But did he truly deserve her forgiveness, even when he found it impossible to forgive himself?_

Draco looked down at his pale skin, it appeared to gleam under the moonlight that beamed through the window. His eyes fell upon the ugly mark that marred his left forearm. The Dark Mark had faded after its caster had fallen, the taint of its dark magic departing with him. Although however faded the Mark had become, still no spell or charm was able to remove or obscure it completely. The night after his trial, drunk on the last remnants of Firewhisky the Manor had held, Draco had become determined to cut the offensive thing from his flesh. His Mother had found him, unconscious on the floor in a vast pool of his own blood. Nonetheless the abhorrent Mark still remained, a constant reminder of his repugnant past. He turned his back to the window, stalking towards his dark timber dresser. Rummaging through a drawer he found what he had been searching for. He sighed as he pulled the long black T-shirt over his form, obscuring the Dark Mark from his sight.

_Draco stood towards the back of the deteriorated classroom, as he and the other Eighth years waited for the Headmistress to arrive and explain what Restoration class would entail. From the corridor outside he heard Pansy begin to drawl, "Get out of my way you filthy Mudblood, I shouldn't have to wait around for the likes of you."_

_The Slytherin girl burst into the classroom, aggressively brushing past a Hufflepuff Draco vaguely recalled having the unfortunate name of Flinch-Fletchly. As Pansy stalked towards him, Draco observed her brush disgustedly at where her shoulder had touched the Muggleborn wizard. He immediately recognised the action as one he would have demonstrated himself in the past._

_"Your outdated views on blood purity are not welcome here Parkinson." Granger called out from where she stood, her hands firmly placed on her hips. Draco was drawn to the fierce fire that appeared to ignite behind her warm, brown eyes. He had always been captivated by that untamed flicker. On many occasions he had strived to bring it out of her, searching for its warmth. It pleased him to see that the lioness had not lost her ferocity after the war._

_Pansy's head whipped around to face Granger, sneering with contempt, "Well, well, if it isn't the little Mudblood whore."_

_Draco flinched at the insult, his eyes flicking momentarily to where he knew the word had been carved into the Gryffindor's flesh by his deranged Aunt. A savage war had been fought, and the Pureblood elitists had been defeated. So why did Pansy insist on upholding their ideals?_

_The Headmistress arrived and the feud between the two women halted before it could progress in earnest. Draco listened intently as McGonagall explained in detail what would be expected of them over the coming year. His stomach churned briefly when he had mistakenly assumed he would be paired with Pansy for the task. He was determined to not spend any more time with the daft bint that completely necessary._

_With half the Eighth years already assigned to their partner, Draco anxiously awaited his pairing. Collecting a pile of scrolls, Professor McGonagall read the next inscription aloud, "Longbottom, Finch-Fletchley, Grounds."_

_Draco understood immediately what this signified, he was to be paired with Granger. He raised his eyes to focus on the Gryffindor a moment before her own gaze fell upon him. Recognising the panic written across her features, Draco felt a heaviness settle in the pit of his stomach. Did she truly fear him after the war or did she simply despise him after all the years of verbal torment he had provided her?_

_"Granger, Malfoy, Library." The Headmistress called, pulling Draco from his thoughts._

_From the other side of the classroom he heard Potter say with contempt, "If he so much as looks at you wrong, I swear..." _

_Deciding it best to not acknowledge the scar heads remark, he stepped forward to collect the scrolls from McGonagall. An idea occurred to him, if he was to demonstrate to Granger that he had no ill intentions towards her, he needed to get her away from Potter. Regardless of his views, he still could not stand the bespeckled saviour of the world, and it would not do to lose his temper. He also desired to put as much distance between himself and that Slytherin wench as possible. Therefore Draco decided to propose that Granger and he travel to the Library to properly examine the object of their task._

_They walked in silence towards the Library, a small distance separating them. Entering the Library, Granger headed straight to Madam Pince's desk. Once she explaining their purpose to the Librarian, they were led to a poorly lit alcove. The space was sizeable and the two of them stood in silence for a time, gaping at the extensive damage. _

_Granger's voice broke the silence, "shall we have a look at our instructions then?"_

_Pulling her wand from her robes Granger transfigured a heap of broken shelving into a small desk and two chairs. Draco was astonished by her effortless use of nonverbal magic, she truly was the brightest witch of their age. The Gryffindor placed her scrolls on the newly transfigured table and took a seat as she placed her illuminated wand down. Draco's breath hitched in his throat as he watched her slowly sweep her hair over her shoulder, revealing her long, slender neck. The wand light highlighted her skin just enough that Draco could discern the spattering of faint freckles across her delicate nose. He had never considered the girl ugly, even before she had grown into her front teeth. Though looking at her now, Draco was hit with the realisation that he in fact found her to be quite beautiful._

_He was unsure how long he had been standing in silence when Granger turned to face him, raising her eyebrow she queried, "Are you going to join me?"_

_Draco averted his eyes from the Gryffindor and hesitantly took the remaining seat. Overwhelmed by his internal revelation, he stared at his stack of scrolls, willing himself not to steal a sideways glance at the woman by his side._

_"What the hell Malfoy? What is with you? No snide remarks? No veiled threats? Not even muttered 'Mudblood' under your breath?" Granger demanded._

_Draco lifted his eyes from the scroll to tentatively look at her. Granger sat with her entire body facing him, arms folded across her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently awaiting his response._

_He inhaled deeply before releasing a long sigh. "What do you want me to say Granger? Do you want me to lay my heart on the line? Tell you I'm so very sorry for everything I have ever done to you? We both know you wouldn't take that on face value. Can we please just get on with the work?"_

_Returning his attention to the scrolls before him he began to unfurl a parchment. Suddenly Granger reached over, snatching the documents from before him. Pulling some parchment from her bag, she produced duplicates of the paperwork. Thrusting a copy in front of him, she then returned to study her notes in silence. Draco thought over what he had said, he honestly was sorry for everything he had done and said to her in the past. How was he meant to being to express his regret to her though? He honestly meant what he had said, they both knew she would not accept a simple apology with ease._

_Draco spent the remainder of the period inattentively skimming over the instructions they had been provided. His thoughts consumed by how he could feasibly prove to Granger that he wasn't the cruel, bigoted child he had once presented himself as. _

After pulling a pair of dark trunks up his toned legs Draco returned to his sizeable, luxurious bed. He turned down the blankets and with a loud exhale threw himself atop the silken sheets. Laying there he found himself thinking of Grangers long neck and freckled nose. He had never truly despised her as a child, nor had he found her unsightly. Despite this he had been shocked to discover his attraction towards the Gryffindor woman. As he thought over their brief conversation in the Library, Draco recalled how the swell of her breast had peaked above her robes as she had crossed her arms in frustration. He felt himself begin to stiffen in the confines of his underwear, groaning he rolled to his side. He could not let his mind stray down this path, he had already subjected himself to one frigid shower this evening. Willing himself to change the direction of his thoughts, he began to ruminate over the afternoons events.

_As he approached the entrance to the dungeons Draco was caught off guard by a sudden and very distinctive squeal. As he began to descend the stairs he could hear Pansy shriek, "Let me down from here this instant, you dirty fucking Mudblood! Who do you think you are?" _

_Rounding the bend he was greeted by the sight of the Slytherin girl dangling mid-air like a strung pig. Draco couldn't prevent the smirk that crept across his face at the sight of Pansy flailing helplessly, attempting in vain to rectify her exposure. He had seen the witch in greater states of undress countless times before, yet if he was being honest with himself, seeing her this in current state trumped all previous encounters. He willed himself not to laugh a loud at Pansy's embarrassing predicament, steeling his features he turned his gaze to Granger. The Gryffindor stood just out of arms reach of the Slytherin witch, looking upward, wide eyed and unmoving. Deciding it best to intervene Draco withdrew from his wand from his robes extending it towards Pansy. Not bothering to cast a cushioning charm, he dropped the girl to the stone with and audible thud._

_Pansy pulled herself up from the stone steps with a groan as she wiped away a crimson streak of blood from pursed lips. Her furious eyes met his as she began to shriek a new, "What the fuck Malfoy? Why didn't you let me down softly?"_

_Pansy turned her sneer to the Gryffindor witch, "You're going to pay for that Mudblood!" Suddenly the Slytherin girl launched at Granger. Draco responded in haste, seizing Pansy from behind before she could make contact._

_As he began to haul the witch down the corridor towards their class, she flailed and screeched, "Malfoy what are you doing? Let me at her!"_

_Draco spared a moment to look towards where Granger remained motionless, her panic evident. His silver eyes met her brown and he found himself overwhelmed by his concern for her wellbeing. Looking away, he returned his full attention to the enraged Slytherin in his arms. Once they rounded the bend Pansy shrugged her way out of his grasp, storming off towards the Potions classroom. Draco followed behind closely, he crossed the threshold and strode towards the desk at the back of the class. As he took his seat next to the incensed Slytherin, Pansy all but shrieked, "Why would you pick that filthy Mudblood over me?"_

_"For fucks sake Pansy after everything we have gone through why can't you leave our parents ridiculous ideals behind? If you truly believe in that bigoted shit, you are a bigger fucking sycophant than even I realised!" Draco hissed in a dangerously low tone._

_Pansy's face creased, accentuating her flat, pug like nose. "Are you telling me you don't believe in the Dark Lords teachings any longer?"_

_Draco felt his entire body turn rigid as he was forced to recall his once Master, "The sick bastard is dead and I never truthfully accepted their vile, outdated views to being with." _

_Pansy looked genuinely shocked at his revelation, though before she could rebut, Draco hastily interjected, "You would do well to leave those ideals behind you, but I see now that you are incapable of that. I want nothing to do with you or your atrocious ideology, don't come anywhere near me again Parkinson."_

Draco twisted the smooth wood of his eleven inch Hazel wand in his palm. After the war concluded the allegiance of his old ten inch Hawthorn had remained with Potter, much to his chagrin. Once the decision had been made by the Wizengamot that he would return to Hogwarts as part of his probation, he was permitted the opportunity to obtain a new wand. Under the supervision of two haughty Auror’s, Draco had been escorted to Diagon Alley. Entering Ollivanders he could not bring himself to meet the frail Wizards eyes, ashamed of his part in the old man's imprisonment. The moment the eleven inch Hazel wood and unicorn hair wand had been placed in his hand, Draco felt the warmth of the magic wash over him. However, all too soon the feeling had been ripped from him, the wand confiscated until his arrival at Hogwarts.

As he rolled the wand in his palm Draco recalled Ollivander informing him as to the wands nature. The Hazel wood was known to make a sensitive wand that often reflected its owner's emotional state. The wand would work best for a master who understood and managed their own feelings. Draco found the thought almost laughable, he was unsure if he had ever felt further from understanding or controlling his emotions than he did right now.

Returning to Hogwarts he had hoped to put to rest the animosity between himself and Granger. He needed to earn her forgiveness, because if Granger could forgive him others would follow, and maybe, just maybe, he could absolve himself. Though after scarcely more than a day observing the bushy haired witch, he found himself beginning to care.


	7. OBSERVATION

Hermione awoke, the sunlight that peaked through the curtains warming her cheek. It appeared she had not moved in the slightest during the night, her clothes and bedding remained untwisted on her form. She groaned as she extended her stiff limbs, feeling the muscles stretch. The Dreamless Sleep potion was simply marvellous, she could not recall the last time she had slept so soundly. Grasping her wand from beneath her pillow she cast a quick charm to check the time. Abruptly Hermione sat bolt upright, she had slept too well, she was running late. Uncharacteristically she would need to forego her morning shower as well as breakfast if she were to make it on time to her first class. She cast a quick cleansing charm on her teeth as she gathered her text books. Throwing on her school uniform haphazardly she hastened to depart her bedroom.

Dipping her head to tie her hair in a messy knot, Hermione strode across the Eighth year common room. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, suddenly she collided with something solid. A set of strong arms immediately clutched at her shoulders, preventing her from toppling backwards. Looking up she met the quicksilver gaze of Draco Malfoy. His eyes darted downward before swiftly returning to her face. Hermione observed how the blue hue of his iris had deepened momentarily, curious she followed the trail of his gaze. She was horrified to discover that in her haste to depart her room she had neglected to fasten all the buttons of her top. Seeing the creamy skin of her perk breasts peaking above the white lace of her bra, Hermione felt a rush of blood reach her cheeks. Only then did she realise that Malfoys hands remained loosely grasping her upper arms. Embarrassed by her exposure she broke away from his hold without meeting his gaze once more. Briskly she buttoned her shirt as she fled for the safety of the portrait hole.

Still flustered Hermione traversed the long corridors and ever changing staircases swiftly, arriving at the Muggle Studies classroom with five minutes to spare. It appeared most of the class had already arrived, the desks full of Eighth year students as well as the Seventh year Hufflepuff’s and Slytherin’s. Hermione wondered if the old classroom had ever seen so much use, it felt as if it could almost burst at the seams. In an attempt to promote a greater understanding of Muggle culture, the Ministry of Magic had deemed it necessary for the class to be made mandatory for all students. Scanning the room she thankfully spotted an empty seat at the desk at which Harry and Neville sat. As she place her bag down and took her seat the two Gryffindor boys ceased their conversation. Turning to her, Neville queried, "Where were you at breakfast Hermione?" 

Harry looked momentarily confused by Neville's question, causing her brow furrow slightly. Had her best friend really not noticed her absence at all? Shaking off her concern, she turned to Neville to respond, "I overslept, only just made it here on time."

"That's our 'Mione, up late studying already." Harry chuckled. 

She couldn't help but feel irritated by Harry's simple dismissal of her tardiness. However, before she could acknowledge Harry's assumption, her attention was drawn to the tall blonde who had just entered the room. Malfoy glanced around the room before seating himself at a desk near the front. The two Hufflepuff Seventh years he sat beside visibly flinched at his presence as they shifted their stools away from him. Hermione could discern the muscles of his back tensing beneath his robes. He dropped his head forward to arrange his parchment and she watched as his silken blonde hair fell loosely to drape across his eyes. She noted the faint dark stumble that spread across his strong jawline, he no longer resembled the angular, pompous boy of his youth. Realising what she was doing Hermione felt her cheeks warm once more and she tore her gaze away from the Slytherin before her.

Finding it intriguing that Malfoy had neglected to sit with his fellow Slytherin Eighth year, she scanned the room in search of Parkinson. She spotted the girl in question seated towards the back of the class, a Seventh year Slytherin perched to either side. The younger students were hanging off her every word and Parkinson appeared to be relishing the attention. The Slytherin witch looked up, her eye's meeting Hermione's as she loudly announced, "I don't see why we have to take this stupid class with all these filthy Mudbloods!"

The Slytherin girl's new found sycophants nodded their agreement enthusiastically. Parkinson turned her disdainful glare towards Malfoy and added, "They should leave this class to the filth and the Bloodtraitors." 

Hermione was curious as to what could have caused such a rift between the two Slytherin Eighth years. Though before she could ponder the matter too intently, the classroom's large timber door swung open. The student's fell silent as a middle aged wizard strode casually into the room and towards the teacher's desk. The wizard placed a leather brief case upon the wooden table top as he turned to address the room in a distinct Irish accent, "Good mornin' class, I shall be your new Muggle Studies teacher, Me name is Professor Julian Connor."

As Professor Connor spoke Hermione studied his appearance. The wizard was middle aged, possibly in his late forties or early fifties. A variety of lines framed his eyes and creased his freckled face, whilst the first signs of grey peaked through his bright red hair. Unlike the other faculty of Hogwarts the new Muggle Studies Professor forego the standard robes and was instead clothed in a fine waistcoat and neatly pressed trousers.

Professor Connor circled his desk before resting casually against its edge. Disrupting her train of thought he spoke, "As I'm sure you're all aware, the Ministry has decided that Muggle Studies is now compulsory for all years. This decision was made with the hope that we can promote a greater understanding of Muggle culture and prevent the travesties of our past reoccurrin’."

The Professor paused briefly to survey the students before him, "I expect you all to achieve a passing grade in this subject, especially you Mister Malfoy. I have been informed that it is vital you achieve a grade of Acceptable or above to satisfy the requirements of your probation."

All eyes in the class turned to stare at Malfoy, whom remained unmoving. From the back of the room Hermione could hear Parkinson taunt, "The Bloodtraitor gets to prove what a filthy little Muggle lover he is, makes me sick. What a waste of a Pureblood, his father would be so ashamed." 

Hermione turned to study Malfoy's reaction, only to see that he remained seated rigidly. The only variation of note in his posture was that his hands sat atop the desk balled into tight fists, all colour drained from his taught knuckles. She was uncertain if his adverse reaction was due to the Slytherin witch's insults or perhaps simply in response to having the attention of the class drawn to him.

Either the Professor had not heard Parkinson's remark or had opted to ignore it, for he continued his discourse, "Many of you will likely have had little to no prior experience with Muggle culture or their day to day life. Although I believe it crucial for young witch's and wizard's to have the knowledge to integrate themselves effectively, we will not be focusing our efforts this year on such trivialities as learning the uses of electricity. Instead our curriculum shall focus on the modern history of Muggle society. You will each be provided a copy of this year’s textbook as it was not yet available for purchase in Flourish and Blotts."

Professor Connor flicked his wand and a large stack of textbooks began to distribute themselves around the class. Hermione looked down at the hardcover text as in placed itself gently on the tabletop before her. The copy of Modern World History was obviously authored and published by Muggles, the old black and white image on its cover motionless. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the content before her, she had expected to be lectured on mere basics such as understanding Muggle currency. 

"If you would all please open you textbooks to page one hundred and sixteen." Professor Conner directed as he shuffled his own notes.

Hermione cracked open the thick book, turning pages until she found the one she sought. 

"Hitler and Nazi Germany, oh my!" Hermione exclaimed, drawing the attention of the two Gryffindor boys beside her.

"What's up 'Mione?" Neville queried.

Hermione lifted her gaze from the text before her to see Harry and Neville both sharing a look of confusion.

She gathered her thoughts and responded, "Well, I guess I just didn't expect to be covering such an intense subject matter in this class."

It was Harry who questioned her next, "Who is this guy? What's the big deal?"

Astounded, Hermione asked, "You were raised by Muggles Harry! Surely you know who Adolf Hitler was?" 

"I wouldn't say the Dursley’s did much actual raising when it came to me 'Mione." Harry responded, eyebrow raised.

"Honestly, have neither of you heard of the Second World War?" 

Professor Connor audibly cleared his throat, drawing Hermione's attention back to the front of the class.

"If we have all found our page, shall we begin?" The Professor announced. He swished his wand in a large arc, causing his notes to project themselves mid-air.

Professor Connor proceeded to lecture the large collective of students for the following forty minutes. As the end of the period approached the Muggle Studies class had been provided a succinct overview of Adolf Hitler and his role in the establishment of Nazi Germany during the Second World War.

As the Professor broached the topic of concentration camps and the gassing of those imprisoned, Parkinson shrieked abruptly, "How is any of this meant to make us like those filthy Muggles? They're all bloody barbaric!"

Hermione scoffed at the Slytherin's remark, "Are you serious Parkinson? Hitler and the Nazi's treatment of the Jewish was no different than that of Voldemort's regime against Muggleborns!"

"That will be enough of that please. Miss Granger is correct, this is the parallel I hoped you would all draw from our lesson today. For our next class I expect you to all complete this chapter's reading, as well as prepare thirteen inches on the correlations between the Nazi and Death Eater ideologies."   
At the Professor's mention of the Death Eater's, all eyes turned to where Malfoy sat. The Slytherin wizard resolutely ignored the glares of his peers as he packed away his quill and substantial stack of notes, before standing to exit the room. 

With the majority of the class already departing, Hermione stood as she gathered her things. Entering the hall way, she passed a small group of Seventh year Hufflepuff's speaking in hushed tones. One of the boys broke from the group, brushing past her to confront Malfoy a short distance ahead.

The Hufflepuff shouted, "Oi, Malfoy! You're a piece of shit Death Eater and you're no better than those Nazi scum. I bet you don't even care what your lot did to innocent people like us!"

She watched as Malfoy froze mid stride and turned slowly to face the young wizard. Even from a distance Hermione felt the rage radiating from his form. Malfoy lifted his chin, a slither of his striking blue eyes glaring out through his dishevelled blonde hair. The Hufflepuff flinched at the sight of the enraged Slytherin wizard towering before him and took an uneasy step backwards.

Straining to keep his tone controlled, Malfoy responded, "Not a single moment goes by in which I could ever forget the horrific things I have done."

Without uttering another word, Malfoy turned and stalked off down the hall, leaving the young wizard to quake in his boots. Not wanting to be late for her next class, Hermione quickly followed suit down the long hall.

Arriving at the Great Hall for lunch Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor table in search of her friend's. She was surprised to see that Neville and Luna had opted to sit with them for this meal. Hermione was glad, she had missed the company. As she took her seat she couldn't help but glance across the Hall, though she failed to find the tall blonde for whom her eyes sought.

"Hello Hermione." Luna chimed, her tone airy.

She turned to look at the Ravenclaw, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she welcomed the eccentric girl, "Hello Luna, it's nice of you to join us for lunch today. I hope the Ravenclaw's won't miss you too much."

"Oh I thought it important to have this meal here today. I have been occupying so much of Neville's attention and after all it is vital to make time for your friends." Luna smiley dreamily as she spoke before looking pointedly towards Harry and Ginny, their eyes for none but each other.

Hermione was constantly surprised by the observant nature of the blonde witch. She had been beginning to wonder if she was overplaying her sense of isolation, simply jealous of her best friend’s relationship. Though with Luna's subtle acknowledgment of their behaviour she now felt justified in her irritation. 

"So Harry, what do you say to us all going down to Hogsmeade together this weekend?" Neville interjected, prying the wizard’s attention away from his girlfriend.

Harry looked to Neville a grin spreading across his face before responding excitedly, "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I double checked with McGonagall yesterday, when she said we can leave for the weekend she meant it. Not just day trips either. We are allowed to leave the school for the whole weekend! As long as we are back before midnight on the Sunday. How awesome is that?"

Ginny wrapped her arm around Harry's back possessively as she announced, "Harry and I have booked a room at the Three Broomsticks so we can spend some time together, alone." 

As the red headed witch finished her sentence Hermione swore she had seen her eyes flash her way. Though before she could contemplate the gesture further Harry added, "Yeah we are looking forward to it. We can definitely hang out earlier in the day though."

Hermione watched as Ginny deflated slightly at Harry's concession. It was clear she wanted her boyfriend's attentions solely to herself.

Luna's eyes sparkled as she turned to face Neville, "Oh excellent, we shall have to find ourselves a room as well. As much as I do enjoy having you behind the tapestries, a bed might make a nice change."

At hearing her words Neville coughed violently, choking on his pumpkin juice as his cheeks flushing crimson.

Watching Harry as he attempted in vain to mask his chuckle, Hermione thought it best to move the conversation forward to prevent Neville succumbing to his embarrassment. She softly cleared her throat before proposing, "Shall we all meet up after class on Friday then and head down to Hogsmeade together for some dinner?"

Having finally regained his composure Neville responded, "That would be brilliant Hermione. Shall we meet in the Entrance Hall after our last period?"

"As we are spending the night in town, Ginny and I will need some time to collect our things after class before we head down." Harry stated as he glanced at the witch beside him.

With a dreamy timbre Luna suggested, "Why don't we all meet at dusk? It is such a lovely time after all.

Hermione smiled as she agreed, "That sounds perfect Luna, will give us all a chance to change our clothes and freshen up beforehand."

"Sounds like a plan. You should come hang out in the Gryffindor common room for a bit tonight 'Mione, the younger students were asking about you last night. You too Neville if you’re not too busy." Harry added with a wink.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her as her best friend requested her company for the evening. Suppressing the small voice in her mind that questioned if she had only been invited for appearance sake, she replied, "It feels like an eternity since we last sat together in the Gryffindor common room, I would love that Harry."


	8. ACCUSATION

Hermione stood paused on one of the schools many staircases, waiting for the fickle structure to come to rest at the correct landing. As it came to a halt she stepped off onto the platform and strolled down the third floor corridor towards her last class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts. As she passed through the doorway and entered the sizable classroom her eyes scanned the space. The room was unoccupied save for two studious Ravenclaw's hunched over a textbook at a far desk. Hermione allowed herself a small smile as she stepped forward to select her seat, for the first time since returning to Hogwarts she had arrived early for class. She had always placed a high value on punctuality, though after the war she found her anxieties reflected in her tardiness. The simplicity of arriving early for this sole lesson brought with it a returned sense of control to some degree.

Hermione sat and watched as Seventh year students from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor began to slowly file in for class. Soon she found her attention drawn to Neville and Harry entering the classroom, both with their respective girlfriends in tow. The two couples, each enthralled in their own conversations, passed right by where Hermione sat as if she were under a Disillusionment Charm. She watched from a distance as her friends perched themselves at a pair of desks on the far side of the class. Unseen, she felt the weight of sorrow begin to settle on her chest. 

In an attempt to distract herself from her impending sense of isolation, Hermione busied herself straightening her parchment, quill and ink for the lesson ahead. As she fussed over the items before her she briefly recalled her previous tuition in the subject. To say that both the Professors and their curriculum had been inconsistent over the years would be an understatement at best. It was clear now having studied under three of the four new staff members, that the young Auror Harry had pointed out during the sorting feast, Willow Sagehorn, would indeed be heading this class.

As she moved her last piece of parchment perpendicular with the edge of the desk she noted a figure entering the room out the corner of her eye. Looking up Hermione's eyes fell upon not the pitch black pixie cut of Professor Sagehorn she had been expecting, but instead the platinum blonde locks of Draco Malfoy. Hermione sat and observed Malfoy with curiosity as he stood frozen in the classroom doorway, it was entirely uncharacteristic of him to act so indecisively. She traced his gaze across the room packed full of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Seventh years, their eyes coming to rest in unison upon Pansy Parkinson. The Slytherin witch giggled flirtatiously at the dark haired Ravenclaw to her side. Bending forward to trace her finger seductively along the boys arm, Parkinson brazenly and intentionally revealed a slip of pale flesh from behind her unfastened robe front. Hermione watched as the witch sneered smugly in Malfoys direction before continuing her blatant advances on the younger wizard. 

Shaking her head in disbelief at Parkinson’s shameless display, Hermione turned her attention once more to the front of the class. She was surprised however to discover Malfoy had left his stationary position in the doorway and was now apprehensively approaching her desk. With a quick glance around the room she became hastily aware that the spot to her right was now the only available seat remaining. Sensing his discomfort as he reached the desk Hermione removed her school satchel from the stool next to hers, looking up she offered him a small, timid smile. She watched as he moved toward her to take the proffered seat. Hermione found herself intrigued by the stiff, deliberate nature of his movements. She wondered if he ever truly relaxed, or if his entire life was consumed by the effort of maintaining his ridged composure. As if perceiving her thought and instantly seeking to challenge it, Malfoy released the smallest of exhales, his edges softening momentarily.

His steel blue eyes glanced up, meeting hers for the briefest of moments. So gently Hermione almost missed it, he whispered, "Thank you."

She was stunned, never had she heard such words pass his lips, much less directed towards her. Even with the limited time she had to observe his behaviour since returning to Hogwarts, Hermione found herself forced to admit that perhaps Malfoy had genuinely changed for the better. Their interactions so far had been civil and polite, even bordering on amicable at times. Until now she had passed his behaviour off as something for his own benefit, an act of preservation as a result of his probation. Though the more she watched him, the more she found herself convinced that his intentions could be sincere.

Lost to her musings Hermione was slow to realise that Professor Sagehorn had arrived and was already beginning her address to the class of Seventh year Ravenclaw’s, Gryffindor's and her fellow Eighth years. 

"Many of you in this room have faced evils and dark magic far beyond that which the curriculum deems I tutor." Sagehorn spoke, her brow perpetually furrowed. 

After a stagnated pause the Professor resumed, "The syllabus however I must teach. Today we shall we discussing curses and in particular the marks they leave in their wake."

Hermione felt herself reach instinctively for her right forearm, where below the cloth of her sleeve hid the twisted branding of Bellatrix's cursed blade. Beside her too she noted Malfoy's already ridged posture tort to near breaking point at the mention of cursed marks. If all indications were to go by, this was going to be a taxing lesson for the both of them.

The Professor continued, "Cursed scars and marks vary from regular scarring. Even our best magic’s and potions cannot heal these wounds entirely. Potter."

"Uh, yes Wil- I mean Professor." Harry answered.

"Have you ever attempted to conceal your lightning bolt scar?" Sagehorn queried, passing over Harry's informality. 

"Um no. I mean I have never really seen the need to." Harry replied, ruffling his hair.

"Miss Weasley, I presume you know how to cast a concealment charm." The Professor stated.

Ginny's cheeks flushed pink as her eyes darted to her boyfriend by her side. Hermione recalled walking in on the girl early in the summer, casting the charm to hide the many love bites Harry had left upon her freckled skin.

Ginny regained her composure, cleared her throat and replied, "Yes Professor, I know the charm."

"Well if Mr Potter would allow it, could you please cast the charm now on his scar?" Professor Sagehorn requested.

Harry turned to face his girlfriend giving her a quick nod of consent and reaching up to sweep his unruly black hair from his forehead. In the blink of an eye Ginny had brandished her wand, gently she pressed its tip against Harry's skin and spoke the incantation. The lightning bolt scare disappeared before their eyes, though only for a moment. Almost as quickly as it had faded the mark revealed itself once more. Astonished by the scars swift return the class released a collective gasp. Hermione however had been expecting the result and found her attention instead upon Malfoy. The Slytherin wizard seemed just as unperturbed by the cursed scars return as her. Hermione wondered, could he perhaps also have cursed scars which he had tried to remove to no avail.

"So, can anyone tell me why the Concealment Charm failed to hide Mr Potter's scar?" Professor Sagehorn asked, pulling Hermione's attention once more to the lesson at hand.

Without bothering to raise her hand, Hermione answered the Professor’s question, "Certain magic, certain curses are so dark, so tainted, they leave a trace upon those to whom they are inflicted. To this day no witch nor wizard has discovered a method or removing such marks. The lingering dark magic prevents the scars from being removed, concealed or in any way obscured."

Professor Sagehorn cracked a small smile, clearly impressed by the response, "Excellently put Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor." 

"Now I am guessing you may have all noticed the slight scarring on my face." Sagehorn continued, referring to the substantial purple scar that ran the length of her left cheek. 

A few nervous chuckles echoed against the classrooms stone walls, the students unsure how to respond their Professor’s remark. 

The unnerved reaction caused Sagehorn's grin to widen, only further adding to the misshapen appearance of her face. 

"Now I have learned to jest about the deformity to my face, but in all seriousness it is a recent acquisition and was very near life threatening. I am sure some of you are aware that I am a trained Auror and I, like some of you, saw combat at the Battle of Hogwarts." 

At the Professor's revelation a grim silence fell across the class, no one liked to think of the Battle or what it had cost. 

"This scar was given to me as the final heinous act of a filthy Death Eater before he met his just end." Sagehorn sneered, her eyes glazed slightly, as if lost to the memory.

Hermione felt Malfoy flinch beside her as the Professor's hate filled mention of the Death Eater.

A Seventh year Gryffindor spoke up and asked, "But if the Death Eater who cursed you is dead, can't you heal the scar now Professor?"

The Professor began to pace the front of the room before replying, "Potter still has his scar, does he not? Even though Voldemort had been defeated." 

"Well isn't that because it's from a killing curse Miss?" Another student added.

"Ah, not entirely. The Avada Kedavra curse is indeed a very powerful dark magic. But the purpose of the curse alone does not cause a mark remain beyond its casters demise. If any magic is dark enough, evil enough, the marking will remain. In fact we have a perfect example right in this room. Malfoy." Professor Sagehorn spat Malfoys name with the same contempt she had spoken of the unnamed Death Eater. 

All heads in the class turned abruptly to face Malfoy as Hermione noted his sharp intake of breath, one which he was yet to release.

Disdain dripping from ever word, the Professor continued, "Mr Malfoy, why don't you show everyone your Dark Mark. I know it remains even after you Masters defeat, I have seen them, faded but ever present on your comrades in Azkaban." 

Hermione felt a fire ignite within her as she listened to Professor Sagehorn’s tirade. Malfoy had faced his trial and the Wizengamot had seen fit to grant him leniency. For anyone to speak to him in such a way, especially a Professor, was infuriating and simply unacceptable. Hermione could see that Malfoy had yet to draw a breath, his lips beginning to turn a shade of blue.

Unable to sit and watch any longer Hermione found herself moving to stand. She reached for her sleeve intending to reveal her cursed scars as she began to shout, "Do you really need to see a brand so desperately?"

Before she could pull herself to her feet however, she felt strong fingers grasp her forearm. Softly, through gritted teeth, Malfoy whispered one word, "Don't."

With a gentle tug he guided her arm down, below the desk and placed it at rest upon her thigh. Absently she allowed him to guide her body with ease, though with her emotions torn between rage and anxiety, she began to hyperventilate. Malfoy's hand began to inch slowly down her forearm, coming to rest before her palm. She inhaled a shaky breath as she felt him delicately trace his thumb in calming circles against her wrist. In the depths of her thoughts she found herself surprised at the warmth of his flesh, his skin not chilled to the touch like she would have expected. With his touch pulling her from the brink of her impending panic attack, Hermione lifted her eyes to meet his, now swirling blue pools of turmoil.

"What the hell 'Mione, why are you standing up for a piece of crap like him again? We all know you have want the Dark Mark to get it!" Ginny shrieked from her place across the room. 

Amongst her classmates Hermione heard the mumbled agreements and approval of the red haired witch’s words. Before she could muster her response Professor Sagehorn spoke once more, "Your kind were all too eager to flaunt the Mark not so long ago. Not so brave now are we?"

Suddenly Malfoy was on his feet as he shook with a silent rage. Hastily he gathered his things into his bag, before stalking from the classroom in great strides. 

Professor Sagehorn screamed at his retreating form, "You will regret this disobedience Mr Malfoy! Mark my word, the Headmistress will hear of this!"

As Hermione made her way to the Great Hall for dinner her mind raced, replaying the events of the afternoon. After Malfoy had stormed out of Defence Against the Dark Arts the class had deteriorated to near chaos. Most of the Gryffindor's and even a few of the more boisterous Ravenclaw's had something to say about Malfoy's association with the Death Eater's and his return to Hogwarts. While Ginny was all too eager to further voice her opinion of the Slytherin wizard, Hermione had noticed that Harry and Neville remained stoically seated, brows furrowed and eyes down cast. Neither had added to the slur of insults nor tried to defend their fellow Eighth year. Unable to deal with the foul attitude of her peers any longer, she had slipped away unnoticed through the mayhem. Arriving at the grand doorway of the Great Hall she sighed, she was not eager to confront her friends, especially Ginny. But she could not sit by and simply ignore the way they were treating another. 

As she took her place at the Gryffindor table it became apparent that the confrontation was already awaiting her. Ginny hastily swallowed whatever oversized portion of food had been in her mouth and chugged at her pumpkin juice before demanding, "Where the hell did you go in class this afternoon 'Mione? Go running after Malfoy? Seriously, what is your problem? Since when did you become a Death Eater lover? You're a Muggleborn for Merlin's sake! Or did you forget that?"

The spark of indignant rage that had been smouldering within her burst alight once more at hearing Ginny's words. Hermione inhaled deeply attempting to choose her words carefully before she spoke, "Oh, honestly Ginerva! Your behaviour can be as appalling as your brother's at times. Malfoy has been trialled and judged, do you think your option holds more authority than the Wizengamot? He has shown more decorum since returning this year than you by far. We did not fight, we did not lose so many just to continue desperately clutching onto such bias and bigotry. We are not at war any longer, he is not your enemy, he is not anyone's enemy."

No longer maintaining the patience to endure Ginny's inevitable rebuttal, Hermione stood abruptly and turned to leave. From behind her Ginny bellowed, "Just you wait! Once a snake, always a snake!"

Having needed to calm her frayed emotions after the altercation at dinner, Hermione had retreated to her room. Sat at her timber desk she placed down her quill and watched the lines of dark ink dry as she stretched her stiff muscles. Having completed seven of the thirteen inches required for her Muggle Studies essay she admitted to herself she could do with a break. Remembering her promise to Harry to stop by the Gryffindor common room that evening, she decided to try and put her argument with Ginny behind her and head out for Gryffindor Tower.

Arriving before the Fat Lady's portrait Hermione found herself overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. So many memories were tied to this place, she felt an abrupt twinge of loss as she reflected on the fact Harry, Ron and herself would never climb through this portrait hole as a trio again. With a brief sigh she recited the password and crossed the threshold.

Somehow she had forgotten the warmth and the noise of the Gryffindor common room. Across the cosy space students of all ages were huddled in groups. Spotting Neville, Harry and Ginny by the fireplace she made her way towards them, nodding politely and greeting those she passed along the way. Harry, spotting her approach called out, "Hermione! We thought you had forgotten about tonight."

Settling herself in the vacant seat beside Neville she replied with a small smile, "No not at all, I simply had some homework I wished to accomplish before unwinding for the evening." 

Ginny gave a small snort of a laugh and said, "I don't know how you do it 'Mione, keep so a head of all the work that is. I haven't even touched mine yet."

"Yeah that's because all you do is touch Harry!" A passing Sixth year called out.

Hermione, Neville and Ginny burst into laughter as Harry's face flamed. With the groups tension shattered conversation between the four began to flow freely at last. After a time however, Harry and Ginny's contribution to the conversation lessened. Their attention otherwise occupied with not so subtle touches and whispered words for none but one another. 

Turning her back on the couple curled in the loveseat Hermione asked Neville, "So what is your task for Restoration? You're paired with Finch-Fletchly are you not?"

Neville beamed, "Oh, it's actually brilliant 'Mione! Justin and I have been tasked with restoring some of the areas in the grounds destroyed in the final battle, including a few of the Greenhouses. Some plants have gone rampart and we have to salvage, rejuvenate and categorize the specimens." 

Smiling genuinely at her friend she replied, "That's great Neville. Your exceptional skills in Herbology will be put to great use."

"Thanks 'Mione, I am really looking forward to the work if I'm being honest. How are you dealing with being paired up with Malfoy?" Neville queried.

"Like I tried to tell Ginny, he has really been nothing but polite and civil towards me so far. At first I thought it might just be him being on his best behaviour because if the probation, but honestly Nev, I think he is genuinely trying to be a better person now." 

Neville paused thoughtfully for a moment appearing to contemplate her words before he spoke, "I haven't been paying all that much attention really. But from what I have noticed he doesn't seem evil, he doesn't even seem like your generic school bully anymore. The war changed us all, I guess it changed him too."

Hermione felt relief wash over her, "Oh Neville, I am glad I'm not the only person to have noticed. I just wish Harry and Ginny could see it!"

His brow creased as he looked over to the aforementioned pair, "If you ask me, I think Harry has seen the difference in him. He used to take any opportunity to jump on the Malfoy's up to something bandwagon. I haven't heard him say a word against the bloke since you told us to give him a chance."

Now Neville had brought it to her attention she realised Harry really had very little to say when it came to Malfoy, which really was quite odd. She asked, "If he doesn't think Malfoy has any I'll intentions, why won't he say anything to Ginny about her attitude?"

Actually laughing aloud Neville responded, "Merlin 'Mione, I wouldn't want to go up against her and I'm not even her boyfriend."

"I guess you're right Nev." Hermione sighed feeling a little deflated. She could understand not wanting to start a feud in his relationship, but if Harry really had noticed the change in Malfoy she wished he would voice it.

As he stretched Neville looked up out the stone window to the moon high in the sky, with a jolt he hastily said, "Oh, I hadn't realised how late it had got! I am meant to meet Luna down by the one eyed witch at ten! I'm sorry 'Mione, I really got to run."

"Not a problem at all. I would hate for you to keep her waiting." Hermione said with a smile.

Looking over to Harry and Ginny to see them locked in a passionate embrace, she added, "I think it best we don't bother those two. I guess l should call it a night as well."


	9. SOLITUDE

The weekend arrived, and with it the Eighth years first chance to test their newfound privileges. Hermione stood in the grand Entrance Hall awaiting her friends as the sun sunk ever lower in the sky. As the last remnants of dusk faded she began to worry that they may have forgotten their promise to meet. She had seen very little of them over the last few days, both Neville and Harry had seemed rather preoccupied with their respective partners. If she were being honest with herself she had quite missed the company of the boys. As for their companions, Hermione had no grievances with Luna, but she had never found herself growing close to the witch. Ginny on the other hand she had always found herself at odds with. The red haired witch had never really warmed to Hermione, even with all the time she had spent at the Burrow. Despite constant reassurance from both parties that nothing remotely romantic would ever take place between Harry and herself, Ginny could not seem to let a sleeping Hippogriff lie. This inherent distrust Ginny held diminished somewhat in the brief moment Ron had alluded to a relationship with Hermione. When the romance had not come into fruition however, Ginny’s mistrust had bloomed once more. Having witnessed the Gryffindor witches appalling, bigoted behaviour towards others since their return to Hogwarts, Hermione found it increasingly difficult to like the girl. Her best friend was in love however so she would, to a degree, hold her tongue.

As the days had passed with little contact from her friends, she had ventured forth once more into the Gryffindor tower in search of companionship. Though with Neville elsewhere she found her once beloved common room significantly less welcoming. Harry and Ginny had scarcely acknowledged her presence before returning their full attentions upon one another. She stayed for a short time by the warmth of the fire until she had grown weary of the younger student’s incessant queries, returning instead to the solitude of her room. In lieu of human company she had busied herself with her studies, but truth be told, her friends apparent ignorance of her isolation was beginning to bother her.

Hermione turned her back on the colossal doors of the Entrance Hall as she contemplated departing for her room in the Astronomy tower. She was surprised however to see the two couples ambling down the staircase, luggage in tow, as they chuckled jovially amongst themselves. 

"Oh, 'Mione! I hope we haven't kept you waiting too long!" Harry called from the foot of the stairs, dropping Ginny's hand as he hastened his pace to meet Hermione in the centre of the Hall. 

Hermione watched as the red head's eyebrows furrowed and the edge of her lip curled at her boyfriend's action, before responding, "Honestly Harry, I thought the four of you may have forgotten me and already departed for Hogsmeade. We had agreed to meet at dusk after all and it has been dark for quite some time now." 

Harry ruffled his fingers through his dishevelled hair and looked to his girlfriend quickly before he spoke, "I'm sorry 'Mione, I guess we all got a little bit distracted and lost track of the time."

Unable to harbour any real anger towards her best friend, Hermione offered a subdued smile, "That's ok Harry. We best be going though."

Neville stepped forward and added, "We should probably Apparate if we want to get there in time for some dinner." 

Hermione found herself trailing behind the two cheerful couples as they strolled towards the Hogwarts boundary gates. As they crossed the barrier she felt the powerful magic of the schools wards dance across the surface of her skin. Once across the barrier Hermione watched as Harry glided his palm across the small of Ginny's back pulling her tightly to his side. With a quick peck on the cheek Harry twisted and the pair vanished. Neville swiftly followed suit, grasping his blonde witch as he span, pulling her with him in side along Apparition. Suddenly utterly alone in the darkness Hermione felt the now all too familiar panic begin swell in her chest. Grasping her wand she inhaled deeply, feeling the cool night air fill her lungs. Conjuring a clear image of the Three Broomsticks in her mind’s eye, she exhaled and turned on the spot with determination. The unpleasant sensation of Apparition was upon her immediately, as if the darkness were likely to crush her at any moment. After what felt like an eternity and an instant all at once, the immense pressure dissipated and before her appeared the lively streets of Hogsmeade.

Standing still Hermione blinked for a moment as her sight slowly adjusted to the bright lamp lit street. The avenue was full of witches and wizards going about their evening tasks, many paused leisurely along the path conversing with friends. The scene before her and its joyous atmosphere was in stark contrast to her recent memories of the village. Thankfully before her thoughts could stray any further towards that night Hermione's attention was drawn to Neville, waving at her from the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. Having gained her attention Neville turned and entered the Inn. Allowing herself a small smile she eagerly closed the short distance to the doorway. As she crossed the threshold, Hermione was greeted by the warmth of the hearth and the nostalgic scent of Butterbeer. Spotting Neville as he took his seat at a nearby booth she made her way over to her friends. As she approached Hermione felt herself become disheartened as she noted that the booth was only designed for four.

"Oh, Hermione dear. Are you joining Harry and his friends for dinner this evening?" 

Hermione turned to find Madam Rosmerta by her side. She gave the landlady a polite smile before responding, "Well yes, it was our plan for the five of us to have dinner tonight."

Rosmerta inclined her head ever so slightly and said, "I'm sorry my dear, when two double rooms were booked I had assumed only four would be needing seats for dinner. Miss Weasley did not correct my assumption when confirming the table booking. Unfortunately I have no larger booths available this evening, but I will go fetch you a stool."

Hermione couldn't help but feel disgruntled by Ginny's behaviour. It was unlikely that the witch had forgotten her by accident. Taking a deep calming breath Hermione made her way to the booth, arriving just as Madam Rosmerta appeared with her stool.

The landlady gave an apologetic smile as she placed the stool near the end of the table, "Sorry again for this dear."

As she took her seat Harry looked to her with confusion, "What was that about 'Mione?"

"It appears that our table this evening was only booked for four." Hermione answered.

Harry looked to his girlfriend quickly before he shrugged, "Oh that's strange, I told Ginny to make sure our booking was for five when she owled to confirm our reservation. I guess there must have been a miscommunication."

Hermione looked across to Ginny to find the witch adamantly avoiding her eye contact. Not wanting to inflame the situation, she let out a small sigh, "Let's not worry about it. Shall we order some Butterbeer?"

"Great idea 'Mione." Neville said, raising his hand to draw the attention of a passing barmaid. He ordered four Butterbeer's and a glass of Gillywater for Luna before reaching for his money pouch.

"Oh Nev, don't worry about that." Harry interjected before turning to the barmaid with a smile, "Can you please just put everything from our table tonight onto my tab."

The blonde barmaid, not much older than themselves, blushed and battered her eyelids, "Yes, of course Mr Potter. If there is anything I can do to help you, anything at all, please let me know right away."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the witch’s obvious flirtation. Ginny glared at the barmaid’s implication before reaching her hand up to curl around Harry's neck, pulling him abruptly down and crashing her lips upon his. Witnessing the intense, possessive display the barmaid’s eyes bulged from her face ever so slightly before she turned and walked away.

Harry pulled himself from his girlfriend's embrace, his eyebrows raised in shock from her sudden, forceful intimacy. "What was that Gin?"

Ginny turned to face the blonde witch now gathering their drinks at the bar, her gaze near as deadly as a basilisks. "That wench needed to know that you are taken. I just can't stand all these witches throwing themselves at you!"

Harry shook his head slowly, reaching to pull Ginny along the bench seat to his side. "She was just being friendly Gin. Anyway, I have told you a million times, you're the only one that I want." 

The barmaid returned with their beverages, placing them on the table and frowning at Harry and Ginny's entwined state before hastily departing. Hermione pulled her attention away from the pair, their intimacy growing overwhelming. As she began to sip on her frosty Butterbeer, she spotted the blonde barmaid in the distance. She wondered if Harry really was oblivious to the witch’s flirtation, or if he had simply been trying to defuse the situation. Although overzealous in her behaviour, Ginny was not wrong, witches did practically throw themselves at Harry. At both Harry and Ronald in fact. Ever since the war had come to an end many witches had sort them out, both for their status and the wealth they had been awarded. Hermione couldn't help but think of her own renown and the ridiculous number of galleons she had been awarded for her services. Yet not one wizard had tried to court or seduce her. She would not want a man to show interest in her for such superficial reasons. However she couldn't help but wonder if she really was so undesirable, so repulsive as to dissuade even the most parasitic of men. With a sigh she forced her attention back to her companions and proceeded to drown her solemn thoughts in her drink.

As the food and Butterbeer flowed Hermione found herself drifting in and out of the conversation, Harry and Neville often withdrawing to speak in hushed tones to their girlfriends. With her company preoccupied Hermione's eyes began to wander the inn, her mind slipping to days past when Harry, Ron and herself would visit Hogsmeade together. She sighed, determining she needed another drink. Draining the last drops of her Butterbeer she moved to stand only to instantly be knocked back haphazardly onto her stool by a passing patron. As the older wizard staggered off towards the bar Hermione heard him swear under his breath, complaining about her position in the walkway. Growing irritated with her placement and impatient with her friend's disregard of her presence, Hermione decided that she would rather spend her evening alone. She stood, this time unimpeded by any drunken patrons and cleared her throat, "Since I have become a bit, as the Muggles say, a fifth wheel, I think I might call it a night and head back up to the castle."

The four occupants of the booth ceased their private conversations and turned to face her, each looking somewhat stunned to find her still present. Harry pulled himself from Ginny's embrace much to her displeasure and began to fidget uncomfortably with his glasses, "Uh, you don't need to go." His voice lacking conviction when he spoke.

She was tempted to let her feelings be know, her sinking sense dejection and creeping loneliness. However not wanting to infect the contented couples with her negativity Hermione stifled her emotions. She forced a smile across her face, one that did not meet her sombre, brown eyes. "Don't worry about me, you all enjoy your weekend. Goodnight."

The others wished her a swift farewell, before immediately returning to where they had left off, as if she were never there. Hermione exhaled, the effort of restraining her emotions taking its toll. The yearning for another beverage now even greater than previous she turned her back on her inattentive companions and made her way to the bar in great strides. She cleared her throat to garner the barkeeps attention, "Can I please have two Butterbeer's to go. A few of those fresh Cauldron cake's as well." 

As she waited for her order to be prepared Hermione turned to glance back at the booth she had just departed. Seeing the four laugh gaily amongst themselves she felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. Despair and frustration swelling within her she felt her thirst escalate as her she forced herself to pull her attention away from the merry scene. Turning her head once more to the bar her eyes fell upon a tall, glass bottle of amber liquid. As the barkeep returned she absently swiped her parched tongue across her top lip as her resolve wavered. "I'll take that bottle of Firewhisky as well thanks."

With her liquor safely stored inside her small beaded bag Hermione departed the Inn. Although the almost non-existent alcohol content of the Butterbeer's had left her far from inebriated she decided against Apparating. Instead she departed along the winding road towards Hogwarts in hope that the cool night air would help temper her emotions. 

Yet as she approached the Astronomy tower she found herself far from soothed, the walk having given her nothing but time to dwell upon her loneliness. With each step she climbed in her ascent to the common room she found her sorrow give way to anger towards her friends. The portrait of Lady Clair De Lune swung open as Hermione approached and absently she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit common room. As she stalked towards her bedroom door she found herself startled by a nearby, husky voice. "What’s got a doxy in your bonnet Granger?"

Hermione's head snapped immediately in the direction of the sound. Malfoy sat lounged in one of the room's plush sofas, his form barely illuminated by that last embers of the dying fire. She felt the burning rage within her flare at his offhand comment as a retaliation formed on the tip of her tongue. Hermione inhaled deeply, swallowing her words as she conceded that the wizard before her did not deserve the brunt of her wrath. With a huff Hermione threw herself down onto the sofa adjacent his. Reaching up to rub at her temple she spoke through gritted teeth, "It's been a long week." 

A faint sound that very near resembled a snort escaped Malfoy. "On that Granger, we can agree."

Hermione leant forward and pulled her wand from her coat pocket, with a flick of her wrist the fire roared to life once more. From the corner of her eye she could see Malfoy squinting at the sudden brightness, she wondered monetarily just how long he has sat here alone in the darkness. It appeared the two of them were not so unalike in their recent solitude. With a silent Accio Hermione retrieved the two Butterbeer's from her charmed bag. 

"Here." She said, tossing the still cool beverage in the Slytherin's direction. 

His seeker reflexes clearly remained well-honed as Malfoy caught the bottle with ease, despite the lack of forewarning. He blinked as he starred at the object in his grasp, his mind appearing to take a moment longer than his body to access the situation. A small smirk graced his lips as he gave a brief nod in thanks and twisted the lid off the bottle. Together they sat alone by the light of the fire and drank in silence.

Hermione reflected on the events of the week past, the behaviour of her friends, classmates and ever Professor's. Though the longer they sat in silence the more she found her thoughts circling back to the perplexing and admittedly intriguing actions of the wizard beside her. 

Curiosity consuming her, Hermione could hold back her query no longer. "Why did you stop me?" 

"Huh?" Malfoy looked to her, his brow creased in confusion before raising one sleek eyebrow inquiringly.

Realising that her question made little sense without the context of her inner monologue, she clarified, "In Sagehorn's class, why did you stop me from revealing my scars?" 

Instantly regretting her enquiry Hermione snapped her eyes away from the blonde wizard. Casting her eyes downward she tugged nervously at the hem of her long sleeve, ensuring the hideous, twisted brand was out of sight. 

Malfoy spoke softly, his tone sombre. "I am aware that Bellatrix was never formally charged with the offences she committed against you. I gathered that if you hadn't wanted people to know about what you went through then, than you would most certainly have regretted revealing so after you had calmed down."

Hermione sighed, she could not deny that Malfoy was correct in his assumption. The last thing she wanted was for the account of her torture to be public knowledge. The crippling terror, disgust and shame she felt whenever she looked upon the cursed word etched in her flesh. Truthfully she feared how she would react if people ever became aware of what she had endured in the war. 

Hermione began to feel her magic crackle to the surface of her skin as the panic swelled within her. Becoming desperate to progress the conversation away from the topic at hand, with a shaky breathe she spoke, unable to conceal the waver in her voice. "I couldn't help but notice you weren't surprised to see the Concealment Charm fail on Harry's scar."

She saw Malfoy's lean muscles turn rigid below the thin cloth of his button down shirt. His voice strained as he responded, "Unfortunately I have my fair share of scars that I am stuck with."

Malfoy inhaled deeply before exhaling through his teeth as he looked at his empty Butterbeer bottle forlornly. "Oh Salazar, I wish I had something stronger than this to drink."

Finding her sentiment aligning with that of her Slytherin companion Hermione reached for her small beaded handbag once more. Reaching her arm down into the depths of the charmed bag she felt around, her fingers coming into contact with cool, smooth glass. Grasping the neck of the bottle, Hermione heaved the Firewhisky from her bag and slammed it down of the on the short wooden table before them.


	10. REVELATION

He watched Granger as she reached deep into her intriguingly tiny bag before she heaved something out and slammed it down on the short wooden table before them. 

"Oh sweet mother of Merlin!" Draco proclaimed, his tongue dashing forth to wet his lips at the sight of the amber liquid. 

Leaning forward in his chair he turned to face Granger, a small smirk reaching his lips. "I didn't know you were the type of girl to drink Firewhisky."

He observed Granger cautiously as she withdrew her wand. However the hex he feared did not come his way, instead the witch silently conjured two crystal tumblers before her. Cracking open the tall bottle of Firewhisky, she poured two large helpings of the amber liquid. Without lifting her eyes from her own glass of liquor Granger reached out holding the second tumbler tantalisingly before his face. As the delicately blended aroma of honey and peppers reached him, Draco felt his checks tingle as he began to salivate. As he stretched his hand forward and grasped the proffered beverage Granger spoke softly, "There's quite a lot you don't know about me Malfoy."

He looked at the witch before him, her posture hunched forward with her elbows braced on her knees as she stared into the depths of her drink. Draco had to admit to himself, he really did know very little about her. Lifting the Firewhisky to his lips he tipped the cool liquid into his mouth, emptying the tumbler in one clean motion. As the alcohol burnt its passage down his throat he felt his resolve strengthen. "Well tell me something about yourself that I don't know then."

Granger exhaled deeply before straightening her spine and bringing her own tumbler to her full lips. She tipped her head back exposing her long neck. As he watched her swallow the liquid, something deep inside him stirred and his tongue darted out to wet his own lips. Having drank the last drops of her beverage Granger slammed her tumbler down upon the wooden table top, snapping Draco's attention back into focus. Subtly he cleared his throat as he reached forward to grasp the bottle. He poured them both another measure of Firewhisky before leaning back in his plush sofa to await Grangers response. Draco sat silently watching the witch as she sipped on her drink, finding it harder to ignore the twist in his gut every time the tip of her tongue traced tantalisingly along her plump lower lip to catch a wandering drop.

"My Patronus is an otter." Granger said at last breaking the silence.

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, an actual smirk spreading across his face. "Oh come on Granger. Is that the best you can do? I'd gather even the First years are aware of that small titbit. Tell me something real, something you would confide in the Weasel." 

He found it intriguing how Grangers brow had creased at the mention of the Weasel. Perhaps there was some truth in the rumours that the red head had left her to pursue much easier chase. 

"I think you would find that I am unlikely to divulge much information to Ronald at all these days." Granger said sharply, confirming his suspicion.

She took another sizable swig of her Firewhisky before pulling her legs up onto her chair and hugging them loosely against her chest. "Why should I confide anything private in you? In the past you would only use that information against me."

Granger was not wrong, the youthful Slytherin of his past would have likely twisted any words she had spoken and used them to spite her. He was not that child any longer though. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "I'll go first then, shall I? I really should not be drinking this." Draco shook his tumbler in the air slightly, gesturing to the Firewhisky. "I'm quite the alcoholic you see. I have been since Sixth year." He sighed, feeling the weight of his revelation. Having drained the remainder of his glass he reached for the bottle once more.

Granger followed suit, draining her glass before gesturing for the bottle, a sad smile upon her lips. "I guess you’re not alone on that one. I myself have become quite partial to self-medicating, a little too frequently in fact. I was at my worst while I was in Australia." 

His sleek brow arched in curiosity, he had not known the Gryffindor witch had travelled so far abroad. "Australia?"

He observed her as her posture crumpled further as if in defeat, her eyes cast downward to the floor as she spoke. "After the final battle I decided to go find my parent's in Australia. I'm not sure if you are aware, but before Harry, Ron and I went on the run hunting Horcruxes, I... I Obliviated my parents. I knew Voldemort would be willing to do anything to find Harry, so I had to protect them, even if it meant I lost them forever." 

Draco flinched as that name slipped from her lips with such ease. He envied those like her that had such strength within them to place no fear in that name. He longed for a day when its mere utterance would no longer call to the taint he felt upon his soul. With a shaking breath he squashed the dark, suffocating emotion down deep from whence it came and took a moment to process the remainder of what Granger had said. She had not been wrong in her assumption. He had been in the Manor that day when Yaxley and Rowle had been ordered to find the Muggle couple. They had been punished severely for their failure when they returned lacking the information the Dark L... he had sort.

Draco brought his focus back to the Gryffindor witch. Her eyes were now upon him, her features mimicking the look of curiosity he had worn only a short time before. He was unsure how long he had sat there in silence, consumed by thoughts of his past. Though if the look Granger was giving him was any indication it had been longer than he had first thought.

He brought his tumbler to his lips and threw back his head draining the remainder of his glass in one. He shook his head slightly as he cleared his throat. "Did you find them? Your parent's?"

Granger leaned forward and placed her tumbler gently upon the tabletop. He could feel the force of the emotions radiating from her. 

"I found them. But they weren't my parent's anymore, not really. The charms I had cast were far too strong. I watched them for weeks, living their new life without me. I should be grateful they are still alive. But honestly, I feel like they are dead to me and I have just been robbed of my opportunity to grieve them properly." Granger sighed dejectedly as she reached for the Firewhisky bottle. Foregoing her glass tumbler she raised the long bottle neck to her full lips, throwing her head back to drink in earnest. 

Having downed a significant portion of the amber liquid Granger groaned before thrusting the bottle in his directing. As he took the bottle from her grasp Draco noticed a stray tear, illuminated by the firelight as it rolled down her cheek. Overcome with the sudden desire to reach out and swipe away the errant drop with the pad of his thumb, he bit down on the inside of his lip in an effort to control his actions. 

"Your turn."

Feeling his inhibitions waning under the influence of the alcohol he found himself consumed by the effort of controlling his actions. He realised too slowly that the witch had spoken, he looked up at her, his eyebrow arched in curiosity, "Huh?" 

"It's your turn to tell me something I don't know about you." Granger appeared to have regained her composure and was now reclined comfortably against the plush sofa.

Draco's eyes dropped to the bottle of amber liquid as his hands began to wring anxiously around its neck. He truly felt the desire to open up to her, but where to begin? To this day he had not even once allowed himself to be vulnerable with another soul. Needing the help of some liquid courage he followed Grangers lead. He closed his eyes as he brought the glass bottle to his lips, throwing his head back he drank deeply. Draco held his breath as the Firewhisky burnt its way down his throat, scorching a path to the pit of his stomach. As he felt the alcohols familiar warmth radiate through his core he exhaled deeply. Opening his eyes slowly he found hers staring back at him. He felt himself be drawn into the depth of her warm brown gaze as something deep within compelled him to speak.

As if listening from a far, he heard the words slip from his on lips, "I never wanted to take it. The Dark Mark."

For the briefest of moments a stunned expression crossed Granger's features before they contorted once more in confusion. "But..."

Understanding the nature of her interjection he cut her off before her sentence could form. "I know, you need to want it or the mark will reject you, will kill you."

Granger leaned forward, her intrigue obvious. "Then how?"

"In a way I did want it, I wanted it more than anything. I never desired to follow in the footsteps of my father, to become his servant, a Death Eater. Though in the end I was required to walk that path out of pure necessity. He, Vol..."

Draco slammed his fist down against his thigh as his rage spilled forth, "It's just a fucking name! Why can I still not say it?"

Granger reached towards him, pausing indecisively, before resting her hand upon his. "It is just a name Malfoy. He can't hurt you anymore."

Expelling a long steadying breath he pulled his hand gently out from beneath hers. Her palm lingered on his leg for the briefest of moments as he ran his fingers through his hair, distracting himself from the tender warmth of her touch.

"He, V... Voldemort. He knew of my reservations. Much to both his and my father's displeasure their usual methods of persuasion had not swayed my stance on joining their ranks. So it was decided that they would use the only thing I had ever cared about as leverage. If I refused to join them, than my mother's life would be forfeit. In the end my desire to keep her safe, even if only for a short while, overpowered my reluctance to accept their cause. Though I do not believe I fully deceived the magic, nor its caster. The Mark burned me much deeper and took far longer than any of the others to brand my skin. I very nearly lost my life that night."

Draco cast his eyes down at his forearm, the Dark Mark hidden beneath the black cotton of his long sleeve t-shirt. Even now he felt the dull ache of its lingering magical taint. He grasped his arm in a vain attempt to massage away his discomfort and released a strangled sigh. 

"If you did not wish to become a Death Eater, does that mean you did not believe in their ideology?" Granger queried, now perched on the edge of her sofa.

"Aspects of the Pureblood elitism, yes I did believe them. How could I not? I was a young child subjected to years of indoctrination. Though everything changed once I came to Hogwarts. Once I met you."

"Me?" Granger asked, her disbelief apparent.

Draco sighed, "I... it's probably easier if I show you."

Granger’s inquisitive nature evidently overshadowing her disbelief she queried, "How?"

"Use Legilimency on me." Draco stated calmly as he shuffled forward to sit on the edge of the chair.

Concern contorting her features Granger gnawed nervously at her bottom lip. "Oh, I am not very good at it."

Draco smirked, "Granger, you are good at everything you try. Besides, I am quite drunk and I plan on opening my mind to you. It won't be very difficult."

Tentatively the Gryffindor witch edged forward and withdrew her wand. As Granger brought her wand up level with his forehead Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Lowering his mental wards he cleared his mind, calling upon the memory he needed her to see.

"Legilimens!"

_Green flames flared before his eyes as Draco stepped forth from the fireplace into the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. He crossed the room, stopping before a large, ornate wall mirror. From out of the reflective surface the steel blue eyes of a young boy stared back at him. As he reached up to brush a patch of soot from the breast of his crisp Slytherin robes he heard echoed footsteps in the distance. Draco turned to face the long hall way just in time to see his mother glide gracefully through the doorway. She approached him with a reserved smile and swooped down to kiss him on the cheek. "Draco dear. Your father is waiting for you in his study. With the completion of your first year he is eager to discuss your grades." _

_Draco gave his mother a curt nod before he turned and reluctantly headed down the hall towards his awaiting father. Having reached the imposing timber door of his father's study Draco paused, taking a moment to straighten his posture and steady his nerves. He reached up slowly and rapped his knuckles twice against the hard, dark wood. _

_"Enter." Lucius's voice commanded from behind the door._

_He approached the desk and stood in silence, knowing all too well that he should not speak until spoken to. His father did not acknowledge his presence, instead remaining seated, his attention fixated upon the length of parchment before him. _

_"So?" The elder Malfoy spoke at last, his eye's never leaving the parchment._

_"My Professors are quite pleased with my abilities Father. I have placed second overall in my grading." Draco answered, feeling a sense of pride swell within him at the thought of his achievement._

_Lucius' eye's snapped up from his paperwork and Draco felt his pride turn, sinking into the pit of his stomach. _

_"And whom, pray tell, bested you?" His father sneered._

_Draco, unable to hold his father's gaze, looked to his feet as he spoke. "A Gryffindor witch, Hermione Granger."_

_His father's brow creased as he tilted his head ever so slightly out of curiosity. "Granger, I have not heard of that family name before." _

_"She is a Muggleborn father." Draco whispered anxiously._

_"What did you just say? Look at me boy!" His father exclaimed._

_Draco lifted his gaze to look his father in the eye as he repeated himself. "Granger. She is a Muggleborn."_

_Lucius slammed his fist hard against his mahogany desk as he rose swiftly from his seat. "No son of mine will be bested by filthy Mudblood scum!"_

_He willed himself to remain steadfast and not flee from the wrath of his father. Gaining what courage he could find Draco spoke, "But Father, the girl is brilliant. They are calling her the brightest witch of our age. How can we possibly be superior to her and her kind when she possesses such power and talent?"_

_Grasping his cane as he rounded his desk Lucius stalked forward until he towered over were Draco stood. His father reached back and swung the cane towards Draco with force, the ornate silver snake head colliding with the side if his face. He fell to the ground in a heap, the world around him swimming as the edges of his vision blurred. _

_He heard his father begin to shout, "Little Bloodtraitor! No son of mine would speak of filth in such a way!" Suddenly he felt his father's dragonhide boot in his side. His rib fracturing under the weight causing him to cough painfully, blood splattering forth from his mouth._

_Through the ringing in his ears he heard the study door open and light footsteps abruptly enter the room._

_"Lucious! Stop this!" His mother wailed, throwing herself between her husband and son. _

_Without hesitation Lucius brought his palm up, hitting his wife across the face with the back of his hand. Lucius looked down at his whimpering wife in a crumpled heap upon the floor. "Know your place woman, or I shall have to deal with you next!" _

_"If you question me ever again, or so much as utter the name of that Mudblood filth with anything but contempt. So help me, you will wish I finished you this night boy!" Draco heard his father hiss before the overwhelming darkness claimed him._

_Draco could hear the faint pleas of his mother in the distance, her desperation pulling him back to the brink of consciousness._

_"Please Lucius. I can't do this. Not again."_

_"You will do as I please of you woman." His father snarled grasping a fist full of her hair forcefully before thrusting her face down over the timber desk. _

_Hearing the material of her robes be torn from his mother's body, Draco willed himself to move, desperate to help her. His broken body failing him, he remained helpless, sprawled across the stone floor. His mind and body unable to tolerate the excruciating pain any longer, Draco welcomed the return of the creeping darkness. The horrendous rhythmic grunts of his father and his mother's strangled whimper's fading into silence as oblivion claimed him once more._

Draco's eye's snapped open as he fought to regain control of his breathing. The memory was one he cared not to revisit, especially through the use of Legilimency. The spell felt more akin to reliving the events than a simple detached recollection. 

With his breathing calmed and the thumping of his pulse abated, he slowly raised his gaze in search of Granger. The witch sat before him, her mouth hung ever so slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed. Her once sun kissed skin now pallor and ashen. "So you continued to act as if you despised me? Despised all Muggleborns? To avoid your father beating you again?"

Draco smirked as he swayed his head from side to side. "Contrary to popular belief Granger, my first instinct is not always to save my own skin. No, I had been beaten many times before and it was inevitable that it would happen again for one reason or another. You saw what that bastard did to my mother. I kept up the facade, acted like the perfect heir he desired, to protect her from him." He spat the last word through gritted teeth as he reached for the Firewhisky bottle. 

As he helped himself to a substantial portion of the amber liquid Granger leaned forward in her chair. The look of inquiry that he was hastily becoming accustomed to was again written across her features. "I don't understand. How could your behaviour possibly influence your father's abusive actions towards your mother?"

Draco passed the bottle back to his drinking companion before reclining back into his plush sofa. "When did your magic manifest?"

Caught off guard by the sudden change in topic Granger's brow creased further. "I don't see how..."

"Trust me. It's relevant." Draco interjected. 

She stared at him for a long moment, her curiosity evident. At last she shrugged before mimicking his behaviour. Swallowing a decent amount of Firewhisky she leaned back into her own chair, folding her legs casually in front of her. "The first time I remember doing magic I was around four year's old. Although when my Hogwarts letter arrived my parent's honestly weren't all that surprised. My mother told me that when I was a baby she was convinced she was losing her mind from the fatigue. She would find toys in my crib that she could not recall giving me, or music would be playing that she was certain she had never turned on. She became convinced that I displayed magic even as an infant."

Draco almost laughed, how ironic that a Muggleborn would display one of the earliest magical manifestation heard of in generations. His father would have literally killed to guarantee his heir show such promise. 

"Well you see, my magic did not manifest until much later than yours. By the time I was four years old my father was becoming increasingly frustrated by my lack of magical fortitude. He began to beat me, partly in an attempt to force the magic out if me. But mostly I think he just wanted to take his disappointment and rage out on me. One night I heard my parent's arguing in my father's study. He had convinced himself that I was a squib. My mother pleaded with him, tried to persuade him that I was still young. He would not hear a word of it, he had forsaken me. He demanded my mother provide him with a new heir, a strong wizard to carry on the Malfoy line. At first I believe she obliged wilfully. But as the years passed my mother endured many horrific miscarriages and the life threatening still birth of my baby sister. Through all this trauma she had become frail and was no longer a willing participant in my father's attempts to procure his new heir, yet still he forced himself upon her. When I finally exhibited the smallest sliver of magical potential I was nearly seven years old. I was once more embraced as my father's rightful heir and he at last ceased his abuse of my mother."

Draco sighed, he knew the years of abuse his mother endured were not his fault, yet he could not shake the guilt he felt. 

"When I returned home after my first year at Hogwarts questioning his Pureblood ideals, it caused my father to once again doubt my position as his heir. I knew that unless I acted exactly as he expected of me, that my mother would once again be subjected to his abuse."

Granger sat in silence for what felt an eternity. At last she spoke softly, "Malfoy... Honestly, I don't even know what to say."

He dropped his head into his hands, a heavy knot forming in his stomach. For so long he had wanted to explain himself to her, somehow gain her forgiveness. Now he feared that absolution would never come.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He said, his voice near cracking. 

"No. I'm glad you told someone. I'm glad you told me. It... It’s just a lot to process. I understand now why you treated me the way you did. However an explanation can't wash away the years of pain you caused me." 

He could not bring himself to look at her. He knew it had been foolish of him to hope for her forgiveness. He moved to stand but Granger spoke, stopping him in his tracks.

"But I can't bring myself to blame you anymore Malfoy. I... I forgive you."

His head snapped up to look at the witch before him. Despite himself, Draco felt a genuine smile spread across his face, unable to contain the joy he felt hearing those words.

Not wanting to ruin the moment he decided against responding. He instead leaned back into the plush sofa to bask in the unfamiliar sense of ease that washed over him. He no longer felt the need to talk, Granger appearing to reciprocate his sentiment. Together they sat in silence passing back and forth the last remnants of the Firewhisky. As he watched the dying embers flicker gently in the fireplace he felt his eyelids grow heavy, each blink requiring more effort than the last. Leaning his head back against the sofa Draco closed his eyes as sleep pulled him into its embrace.


	11. AVOIDANCE

Hermione groaned, squinting at the bright sunlight that beamed through her open bedroom window as she fumbled beneath her pillow for her wand. Grasping the length of vine wood she slashed it aggressively through the air, causing her curtain to launch forward forcefully, throwing the room once more into darkness. She rolled gingerly onto her back as the thumping of her own pulse pounded rapidly against her skull. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, trying to remember what had taken place the night before.

_They had been sitting in silence for some time now, passing the last of the Firewhisky back and forth. She had consumed quite a substantial quantity of the amber liquid, her body now warm and heavy. Hermione began to lean forward with the intent of once again reaching for the glass bottle. Though as the room lurched and began to spin she decided against having any more of the fiery beverage. She instead closed her eyes and slowly lowered her head back onto the plush sofa behind her._

_As she sat there reclined, staring into naught but darkness she could not help but recall Malfoy's smile. She could not think of a single instance that she had seen the blonde wizard smile before this night. Not that one sided smirk he so often wore, but a genuine, dazzling smile. _

_Suddenly an ear splitting crash shattered the silence. Hermione leapt to her feet with a drunken stagger, wand drawn she searched for the imminent threat. Her eyes focused on Malfoy's slumped figure and with a sigh of relief she lowered her wand. It appeared that the wizard had passed out in his sofa, the empty Firewhisky bottle slipping from his grip to shatter upon the stone floor._

_She inhaled a deep calming breath and muttered, "Evanesco."_

_With the broken shards of glass now vanished Hermione stumbled forward towards the sleeping Slytherin. She wondered for a short moment if she should wake him but decided against it. Instead she fumbled her way to her room in the dark before retrieving the spare quilted blanket from her reading chair. Returning to the sleeping Slytherin she draped the blanket gently across his lap, careful not to wake him. _

_Standing there she couldn't help but find herself taken aback by the sleeping wizard. It occurred to her that he looked different as he slept, softer almost. The ridged, angular note that was ever present in his facial features had eased in his unconscious state. Very suddenly it hit her, the realisation that she indeed found Malfoy incredibly attractive. Finding his body desirable was one thing, most of the witches and even a few of the wizards in this very castle would admit he had a rather fine physique. But admitting to herself that she found him handsome? No, that was a whole other matter entirely. Deciding her mental state was currently far to compromise to even entertain that chain of thought, Hermione shook her head slowly and turned away from the unconscious figure. Retreating to the privacy of her room she closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to glance one last time at the blonde wizard. She fumbled for a moment through her bedside drawers, finding the small glass vial she sought. Draining all but the last violet drops of her dreamless sleep potion, Hermione collapsed atop her bed._

Hermione felt the blood rush to the surface of her skin as a flush spread across her freckled cheeks. Even in her no longer inebriated state, she could not deny the attraction she felt towards Malfoy. She inhaled deeply before releasing a long, defeated sigh. There was simply no point in her lying to herself about this. 

Prying herself delicately from her soft mattress, she pulled herself tenderly into a sitting position. With a silent Accio she summoned a burnished flask. As she drank she felt the cooling sensation of the hangover potion wash over her body, leeching all trace of discomfort from her form. She stood and stretched her limbs, relishing the sensation in her muscles. Although her mind and body now felt refreshed, Hermione realised she could still detect the pungent stench of last night’s drink upon her. She gathered her thing's, deciding it best to start her day with a hot, cleansing shower.

As she stepped out into the common room she found herself somewhat disappointed to find no trace of neither Malfoy, nor the night they had shared. She made her way silently across the deserted room to the ornate double doors of the Eighth years shared bathroom. Hermione pressed against the door with the flat of her palm, opening the door with a long, drawn out creak. She slipped through the opening and flicked her wand, causing the rooms many candles to flicker alight. Although almost certain she was alone she cast a quick Homenum Revelio to be certain, before turning to lock the doors behind her. 

Swiftly she stripped her clothes from her body and plunged herself under the showers near scalding stream. She stood there with her eyes closed allowing the hot water to cascade over her body. Exhaling slowly through her nose, Hermione revelled in the sensation of the tiny droplets as they rolled across her skin. Her mind called forth the image of water drops against another's flesh. She recalled how her mind had raced as she watched that stray drop fall from Malfoy's jaw, land on his defined peck and roll slowly over the ridges of his chiselled abdomen. Her eyes had traced its path as it fell into his Adonis Belt before disappearing into the patch of dark blonde public hair that had peaked from above his towel.

Lathering soap against her body her hands delicately traced the curves of her own form. As she ran her fingers up and over the flesh of her perk breast her pulse quickened. Contemplating the feel of his touch in place of her own, she felt her nipple stiffen beneath the caress of her palm. Her quickened pulse descended, blossoming into a deep throbbing sensation within her core. Hermione slid her hand slowly from her breast, down the length of her smooth stomach and over the slight mound of her public bone. Her middle finger dipped into her slick folds finding her swollen bud with ease. Slowly she began to move against herself, circling her engorged clitoris. The vivid memory of his dazzling smile crossed her mind. She visualised his lips and the sensation of their touch as his chiselled porcelain body pressed up against hers. She hastened her pace and found herself beginning to pant as the tension continued to build within her core. As her impending orgasm approached she felt her legs begin to tremble beneath her. Bracing herself on the shower wall with her free hand she bit down on her lower lip, suppressing the moan that escaped her as she reached her climax. Panting rapidly Hermione leaned back against the shower wall. With eyes shut tight she savoured the weighted sense of tranquillity as endorphins flooded her body. 

Slowly she regained her breath and her composure, rinsing the remaining suds from her body. Shutting off the stream of water and drying herself swiftly with her wand, she pulled her thick curls up into a messy bun. As she slipped into her Muggle jeans and long sleeve t-shirt she decided to retreat to her room and immerse herself in a lengthy novel for the afternoon.

Hermione closed the hard cover of her thick novel, entirely satisfied with the stories conclusion. Looking up for what must have been the first time in hours, she blinked rapidly, attempting to focus her eyes on a distant point through her bedroom window. Only then did she realise just how low the sun had set, the last of its light peeking from above the horizon, casting deep long shadows across the landscape. Suddenly Hermione's stomach growled audibly causing her to frown. It occurred to her that while enthralled in her reading all day she had neglected to eat. With dinner due to be served shortly she stood, stretching her muscles as she rose from the chair. She stowed away her wand carefully and slipped into an old pair of converse sneakers before departing for the Great Hall.

As she crossed the threshold into the Great Hall Hermione froze momentarily. With the Eighth years and select few of the Seventh year students having been granted leave from the school grounds, she found herself unsure of where to sit. Walking slowly down the aisle she found at last a stretch of vacant bench. As she served herself a meal from the vast array of house elf prepared dishes she found her gaze wandering across the far side of the Hall. Her eyes traced the entire length of the Slytherin table as she ate, though she could not find the blonde wizard for whom she sought. After a time it occurred to Hermione that Parkinson was also absent from the Hall. She could only assume that the Slytherin witch was currently making to most of her off ground privileges, just like the rest of their fellow Eighth years.

As she pried her attention at last away from the far table Hermione realised abruptly just how long she had sat there waiting, hoping to see Malfoy. Looking around her she noted that it must have grown late. The crowd had thinned substantially, only a few stragglers remained seated, concluding their conversations in whispered tones.

Hermione moved slowly down one of the castles many long corridors, towards the Astronomy Tower, her thoughts consumed by him. Upon entering the Eighth year common room she felt the pang of disappointment, yet again there was no sign of Malfoy. With the circular room dim and deserted she made the decision to retreat to her own bedroom. Perhaps if she buried herself in her studies she could free her mind of the tall, blue eyed wizard, if only for a moment.

Placing her quill down upon her wooden desktop she watched as the last of her ink scrawled words dried against the parchment. Rolling the completed essay up, she deposited the scroll in her satchel and stifled a yawn. As she rose from her desk she reached down, unfastening the button of her jeans. Hooking her thumbs over the hem of the denim she slid the clothing down over the curve of her hips, the heavy material falling to gather around her ankles. Stepping out from the jeans and towards her bedside table, she stooped down and opened the drawer. As she withdrew the vial of dreamless sleep potion she released a dejected sigh. It appeared that in her drunken state the night before she had consumed far too much of the violet concoction. Throwing her head back she uncorked and upturned the small glass vial, coaxing the remaining few drops to fall from the rim and land upon her tongue. Discarding the now empty potion vial, she threw herself face down on her plush mattress, closed hers to the world and awaited sleeps arrival.

Hermione woke early the next morning, surprised, yet immensely grateful to not have suffered through any torturous night terrors. Again she searched for Malfoy, but the blonde wizard continued alluded her. Not once that day did she cross his path in their shared common room. His presence distinctly absent in the Great Hall throughout each meal, if she had not known the conditions of his probation Hermione would be certain that he was no longer on school grounds. Gradually her concern for the Slytherin wizard turned to frustration as she could only bring herself to one logical conclusion, he was avoiding her.

By the evening Hermione found herself lying awake in bed questioning everything. Pulling apart every minute, seemingly insignificant component of the interactions they had shared. She wondered if he had regretted revealing so much about himself to her that night. Had he really meant it when he claimed he had never hated her? All those times he had said such awful things, looked down at her and called her Mudblood. Was it truly possible that he meant none of it? If he felt no hatred towards her, why then had he tried so hard to avoid her these past few days? Gradually she felt the doubt creep in, twisting and tugging at her emotions. She recalled sitting in the Great Hall, musing to herself that Parkinson, like their fellow Eighth years, must be out enjoying her freedoms. Perhaps the Slytherin witch had not left school grounds after all. Despite her best effort, she could not shake the image from her mind of Malfoy and the pug faced witch as they lay together, limbs entwined, mocking the moronic Mudblood who had succumb to their deception. 

Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed, heart pounding as sweat dripped from her skin. At some point she had drifted off into a restless sleep, only to find herself trapped in the endless torture of her reoccurring night terror. Reigning in her frantic breath she looked slowly around the still dark room. Lifting her wand in the air she cast a charm to reveal the hour, the sun would be rising soon. Hermione saw no point in attempting to return to her fitful slumber. She stood and gathered her things, a scorching hot shower just what she needed.

As she stepped out into the circular expanse of the Eighth year common room she could distinguish the outline of a shadowy form as it dashed past the peripheral of her vision. Grasping her wand to effectively illuminate her surroundings she caught sight of the figure as it slipped away through the entrance to Malfoys bedroom, the door closing behind them with an audible bang. Hermione was now certain, the Slytherin wizard was indeed avoiding her. She knew however that his tactic of avoidance could only last so long, as with the arrival of Monday morning came Restoration and they once more would be alone together. 

Making her way towards the library Hermione’s frustration festered within her as her mind recounted the many doubts she now harboured towards Malfoy. Entering their secluded alcove she spotted him, his back to her, hunched over an unfurled scroll already at work. She had intended to confront the Slytherin, however once her eyes landed upon him she felt her rage spark within her and her magic crackle to the surface. Inhaling a shaky breath she marched herself over to the vacant stool and dropped her satchel haphazardly with a loud thud. Throwing herself down onto the stool she pulled a stack of parchment towards herself with a huff. Together the pair sat in silence, neither uttering a single word as they repaired and categorised the seemingly infinite mound of damaged literature. 

As the days passed by she saw very little of the blonde, yet she could not rid her mind of him. He would arrive to each class seemingly moments before their Professor's and likewise would be out the door before Hermione could even gather her things. The longer she went without seeing his presence in the Great Hall the further her rage subsided. It was now evident that Malfoy was either finding his meals elsewhere or neglecting to eat at all. Despite herself, gradually her frustration returned once more to concern for his wellbeing. 

While she sat the long Gryffindor table despondently picking apart a pumpkin pasty, Hermione found that her thoughts once again began to drift. Her eyes scanned the now all too familiar length of the Slytherin table, but found no sign of platinum blonde. Releasing a drawn out sigh she dropped her eyes back to the remains of her crumbled pastry.

"Are you alright 'Mione?"

"Huh?" Hermione looked up, caught off guard by the sound of her name. Most of the week her friends had scarcely spoken to her. She had suspected they had all been either deterred by her foul temperament or too preoccupied in their lives to even notice it.

"I asked if you're alright?" Harry repeated

"I'm fine Harry." 

His brow creased, evidently unconvinced by her response. Nevertheless he continued, "We are all heading down to Hogsmeade for dinner again tomorrow. Would you like to come?"

She forced a polite smile onto her face while recalling the abysmal night she had endured the week previous. "No thank you Harry. I think I will just stick to the castle this weekend, I have a few essays to catch up on."

"No worries 'Mione." Excepting her excuse on face value he did not press her any further. Harry happily turned his full attention back to the feisty red head by his side.

Lifting her gaze toward the far table once more Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. Staring intently back at her were the striking blue eyes that had eluded her all week. For what felt like the longest of moments their eyes remained locked upon one another. Abruptly Malfoy broke their connection, she watched as he stood and departed the Hall with long graceful strides. Once he had left her sight Hermione exhaled a deep breath, one which she had not even realise she had held.


	12. NINETEEN

In a scarcely illuminated alcove of the Hogwarts library Hermione sat alone, her jaw clenched as she held her tears at bay. She would not cry, not again. She had told herself she was done crying, that she had left that weakness behind in Australia, left it behind with her parent's. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and threw her face into her open palms as the salty drops threatened to break loose from beneath her eyelids. Despite her desire to think on it no longer, the events of that morning began to repeat themselves in her mind’s eye.

_A subtle warmth spread tantalisingly across Hermione’s exposed skin causing her to stir from her slumber. Ever so slowly she lifted her heavy eyelids and was greeted by the magnificent golden tones of sunrise. The pleasant hue of the new day glowed against the polished surfaces of her bedroom furniture. She felt an involuntary smile spread across the features of her face, she had slept well, remarkably well. Turning her head to the side her vision focused on the small empty potion vial that sat uncorked on her bedside table. For the very first time she had succeeded in controlling her impulses and accurately portioned the draught to last the full week. She had not experienced a single night terror for an entire seven days and she could not recall the last time she felt so thoroughly rested. _

_Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position atop her plush mattress. Entwining her fingers she stretched her arms up above her head and relished the satisfying series of clicks as her spine elongated. Out of perpetual habit she turned to look at the Muggle calendar magically affixed to the wall above her desk. Instantly the momentary elation she had felt sank like lead to the pit of her stomach. Today was Monday the nineteenth of September, today was her nineteenth birthday. _

_She found herself reluctantly reflecting on the year past. On this date only one short year ago they had already begun their search for the Horcruxes. At that time she had been fighting not only for her own survival, but something much greater than herself. There had been no time to contemplate the significance of her own birthday or how, under different circumstances, she would have been celebrating her Muggle coming of age. But now she had naught but time to reflect on those missed moments. How her parents never had the chance to see her reach that milestone, to celebrate that with her. Wendell and Moncia Wilkins no longer recalled ever having a daughter, much less an adult one, not after what she had done to them. Hermione felt the moisture as it began to well in her eyes. Hastily she wiped away the offensive dampness, she would not cry. Hurling the covers off herself she climbed from the bed with determination. Suppressing all thought of her lost family once more, she set out and commenced her day. _

_"Just another normal Monday." She whispered to herself in denial._

_In the Great Hall she sat absently stirring her oatmeal as her friends chattered amongst themselves merrily. Not one of them had wished her a happy birthday, instead launching directly into an eager recount of their most recent off ground weekend exploits. _

_"You should have seen it 'Mione!" Harry exclaimed._

_Hermione looked up from her porridge and frowned at her bespectacled friend, "huh, pardon, what did you say?"_

_Harry shook his head slowly as he chuckled, "you're not off thinking about NEWTs already are you?"_

_The crease in her brow deepened, surely her best friend should be able to tell that something was wrong, she felt her sadness turn to frustration. _

_Before she had the chance to interject her retort Harry continued his tale, "I was just saying, when we popped into London on Saturday night I took these three to see a Muggle magic show, you know, rabbit in the hat and all! Oh 'Mione, you should have seen their faces!" _

_Seeing her friend’s pure joy in that moment she could not bring herself to express her dejection. Instead she forced a small smile onto her face, "that's great Harry, it sounds like the four of you had a marvellous weekend." _

_"Yeah, yeah we really did." Harry replied before turning to gaze to the red headed witch by his side, evidently smitten. _

_Knowing all too well that Harry's attention would not return to her, Hermione looked down once more at her bowl of untouched cold, grey oatmeal. She pushed the undesirable dish away from herself with a sigh and raised her head to once again sweep her eyes along the long Slytherin table in vain. Since that singular moment on Thursday evening in which their eyes had locked, Malfoy had yet to make another appearance in the Great Hall. Save for the brief glimpses she had caught of the blonde wizard in class, his presence had remained distinctly absent._

_Hermione felt overwhelmed by the vast array of emotions that coursed through her. Confusion, despair, frustration, anger, pulled her mind from all directions, threatening to tear her psyche apart. On the cusp of her mental limits Hermione decided promptly that she needed to remove herself from her current situation. Desperately requiring a moment to herself, she resolved herself to an early retreat. She stood, unnoticed by her so called friends, departed the Hall and made her way to the library with her head held high. She would not cry, she repeated to herself. She would not cry._

Unable to contain her emotions any longer Hermione felt a single tear escape and roll down her cheek as a strangled whimper escaped her throat.

"Granger?" Malfoys voice queried softly from the alcoves shadowed entrance.

No, she would not let him see her like this. She could not let him see her weakness. She rubbed the stray tear aggressively into her freckled skin and fought to hold the rest at bay.

"Granger... are you, are you alright?" Malfoy pressed, his tone unusually kind.

Why did he care? No one cared, she told herself. She could hold the tears back no longer. They began to steam down her face in earnest as she felt her body begin to shake and her breath become increasingly ragged. Suddenly she felt strong arms encircling her as Malfoy pulled her into his grasp and firmly pressed her against his warm body. She willingly collapsed into his embrace as at last she allowed herself to cry. 

Hermione was unsure of how much time had passed. Her tears had ceased, yet still he held her as he stroked her back gently, comfortingly. The material of Malfoys shirt felt damp against her face. She could feel the ridges of his chest pressed against her cheek, her head shifting slightly with each breath he took. 

Abruptly the reality of her situation came crashing down upon her and Hermione inhaled an audible gasp. Hastily she pressed her open palms against Malfoys chest as she pried her face away from his body. Yet he did not relinquish his hold on her, his face now mere inches from her own. As she looked into the striking blue of his iris' Hermione felt blood rush to the surface of her skin as a pronounced flush spread across her freckled cheeks. Swiftly she broke their eye contact and stammered, "oh, ah, your sh... shirt."

Malfoy released her from his embrace and smirked, "you're a witch Granger, I'm sure you can fix it."

She fumbled nervously for her wand and wordlessly cast a hot air charm. Once the moisture had been evaporated from his tear stained robes she placed her wand down and reached up to touch her own face, "Oh, I must look a mess."

Ignoring her remark Malfoy pressed, "Are you going to tell me what has happened?"

Hermione gnawed at the inside of her bottom lip, she wondered how much she should reveal to the Slytherin wizard, if anything at all. She dropped her head to gaze at her lap as her shoulders slumped in defeat, "today is my birthday."

"Oh... Is that a bad thing?" Malfoy inquired hesitantly.

She raised her eyes up to see the puzzled expression written across his features. As she looked into his eyes she realised her grief had been quelled by her tears, leaving behind in its wake a pit of rage and frustration. She opened her mouth to speak and could not halt the verbal assault that spilled forth. 

"Is that a bad thing? No. Well it shouldn't be, but it is. Because I am alone, utterly alone and days like today drive that realisation deep into my core. My parent's, thanks to what I have done, are gone and my friends... I don't even know if that term is appropriate any more. Well, they seem oblivious to my existence most days and.... and you!" Hermione emphasised the final word as she prodded her finger forcefully into Malfoys sculpted chest.

His eyebrows shot up his face as he raised his hands as if to surrender. "Me? What have I done?" 

Hermione launched from her seat and began to pace back and forth in a fury. "You... I thought we had. I believed we had made some form of amends that night. You even made me believe, truly believe we could develop some sort of friendship. But then you just up and disappeared, vanished, avoiding me all this time. Why did you do it? Do you still hate me? Is this all just a trick? Some elaborate scheme? Do you just want to make the filthy little Mudblood suffer one last time?"

In an instant Malfoy was on his feet and had closed the distance between them in one short stride. He grasped her shoulders forcing her to cease her incessant pacing. She refused to meet his gaze, instead adamantly staring at his well-polished black leather brogues.

She felt his hand leave her shoulder and gently rest beneath her chin. Slowly he tilted her head up and her eyes fell upon his, vivid blue. He spoke softly, yet with firm conviction, "do not, ever, call yourself that." 

Malfoys hands fell away from her as he stepped away. As he turned his back on her he brought his fingers up to rake through the strands of his platinum hair, evidently frustrated. He inhaled deeply before releasing a fleeting huff as he pivoted to face her.

He stepped towards her, closing their distance once again. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, uncertain as to what she should expect. 

"You're right. I have been avoiding you."

She felt herself deflate at his words, a part of her, a not so small part, had hoped he would tell her she was mad, that he had not been avoiding her in the slightest.

"But certainly not for those ludicrous reasons. I have been avoiding you because of this..." Malfoy paused and gestured back and forth between the pair of them. 

"This is something. Camaraderie, friendship? I don't know what to call it, but something changed between us that night. If I'm being honest with you, honest with myself, I care about you. Admitting that is terrifying and if nothing else I'm a coward, so yes, I have been avoiding you, avoiding this moment."

Hermione felt entirely overwhelmed by his revelation. He cared about her. What did that even mean? Was he referring to simple amity between them, or perhaps implying something more? She knew she needed to respond, but how? She willed herself to speak and opened her mouth. "Oh..."

Malfoy smirked and even appeared to suppress a small chuckle. "Oh? Is that all you have to say Granger?"

The rest of his words played through her mind and her brows knitted together in a deep frown. She looked up to meet his gaze, "you are not a coward."

On this occasion it was he who broke their eye contact as his posture slumped defeatedly. "But I am. All the abysmal, selfish things I have done..."

Knowing where his tirade would lead, Hermione swiftly cut him off. "Anyone subjected to those circumstances would have likely made the exact same decisions Malfoy."

"You wouldn't have." He whispered, tone laced with despair.

She thought on his words for a moment. If she had been in his situation would her resolve had been any different, would she have made the same choices? "To protect someone I loved. To protect my mother, I likely would have."

Malfoy sunk down onto one of the alcoves long wooden benches and cradled his head in his open palms. She followed him over and sat herself down beside him. Reaching out her hand she placed it reassuringly against his back. Tentatively she began to trace small circles against his back, just as he had done to comfort her.

Together they sat silently in the library alcove for some time as Hermione continued to glide her fingertips over the peaks and valleys of his shoulder blades. As Malfoy regained his composure she withdrew her hand from his muscular back and placed it awkwardly in her lap. She began to fidget nervously with her robe sleeve, unable to meet his eye as she inquired, "So... We're friends now?"

"Yes Granger, I suppose we are."

Hermione looked up to find his posture had dramatically shifted. Malfoy was now leaned back casually, his elbows braced upon the wooden desk behind them. He sat with his leg folded effortlessly before him, his ankle perched atop his knee.

She felt almost unnerved by the speed at which he could regain his facade of equanimity. It bothered her that his life had forced him to develop such a thorough guise. However, she decided it best not to press his rapid change of demeanour, instead she stole the opportunity to voice her recent concerns, "Well, as a friend, can I say that I am quite concerned about your recent lack of sustenance."

Malfoy arced a single eye brow evidently perplexed, "what?"

"I have only seen you in the Hall for a meal once since, you know..." Hermione trailed off. 

"Since we both got plastered drunk and I revealed far too much of my own personal baggage? Unfortunately, I do remember." 

She wanted to tell him that he had not revealed too much, that perhaps it would be beneficial for him to discuss his past. Though before she could express her thoughts on the matter Malfoys face contorted into his signature smirk.

"Don't you worry your bushy little head Granger. I have been eating, I've been going down to the kitchens."

Of all the responses she could have fathomed, this had not been one of them. "The house elves gave you food?" She asked in disbelief. 

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow in response to her inquiry, "Why wouldn't they?" 

"Well." Hermione paused, she did not wish to cause offence. "The Hogwarts house elves are notoriously selective with whom they will directly accommodate."

A smile broke out across Malfoys face, that same dazzling smile that Hermione had not so long ago found herself fantasizing about. She felt her breath hitch as a familiar ache settled in her core. Fortunately her momentary lapse in composure appeared to pass unnoticed by the wizard by her side. 

"Unlike my father." Malfoy's smile fell from his features at the mere mention of the Malfoy patriarch. 

He took a deep breath and continued, "I have always been kind to the elves. Reeney, she made sure the others knew that too. I have always been welcome down there. Throughout my years at this school it was a safe place, the only place I could be my true self." 

She found herself picturing a young Malfoy, slipping away under the cover of darkness, to seek the comfort of the house elves. It saddened her that he had gone to such lengths, forced into isolation to allow himself respite from the pretence of his life. 

"Reeney?" Hermione enquired.

"She was one of the house elves at the Manor when I was a small child. She helped raise me, a nanny in a sense. Honestly, she was my first true friend. My father, as you can imagine, was of the conviction that children should be seen but never heard. As a small boy I was not always capable of containing my emotions. On the occasions that I disturbed his precious silence it was Reeney that would inevitably be punished. I distinctly recall the day that all changed, in fact it may be my earliest clear memory. I was only four years old and playing in the Manor's garden, I fell scrapping my knee. I remember crying out in pain, Reeney tried her best to comfort me, to silence me, but my father had heard my wails through his study window. He beat her fiercely that day. I had seen him lay hands on the elves before, even on my own mother, but those times were different, they were controlled. That day was the first time I had seen my father display such unhinged violent tendencies. I desperately feared for Reeney's life. So that night I made my way to my mother’s dressing room, I stole from her wardrobe a pair of emerald, silken gloves. I smuggled them into the elves quarters and forced Reeney to take them. She refused to leave me at first, insisted she should stay and protect me. I ensured her that I would be fine. Promised her that I would be silent from now on, I would do nothing to goad my father’s wrath. There are few places a free elf can turn to, but it was well known that Hogwarts, Dumbledore in particular, welcomed them, so in time she found her way here."

"Your father, he..." Hermione could not find the words to describe how much she detested the man. 

However, she need not find the words as Malfoy concluded her sentence, his tone laced with pent up rage, "is an abysmal excuse of a human being." 

Hermione was almost certain she knew the answer to her own question, yet still she asked, "Did he known it was you who freed Reeney?"

"Oh, without a doubt. Come morning he beat we within an inch of my life. He never uttered a single word, but it was undeniable he had learnt of my transgression."

It both infuriated and saddened her to know that Malfoy had suffered through such extreme abuse, even at the tender age of only four years old. Her emotions were evidently written plain across her features as Malfoy remarked, "do not let my history trouble you Granger, it is all in the past and my burden alone to bare."

It was clear as day to Hermione that Malfoy had yet to deal with the psychological turmoil these memories brought him. She wanted to share his burden, to take some, if only a fraction, of that pain away. She desperately felt the compulsion to in some way soothe his sorrow. However, she questioned whether it was simply too soon to offer herself in such a way. She suppressed her desire to reach out and touch the platinum haired wizard comfortingly. She would hold her tongue on the matter, at least for now. 

Hermione pulled her eyes reluctantly from Malfoy and her gaze fell upon the precariously stacked piles of scrolls and tomes sprawled across the centre of the alcove. If she didn't know any better she would swear that select items within the colossal heap had been charmed to replicate themselves when unobserved. She inhaled deeply before releasing the air in a huff, "We best attempt to accomplish some work, I suspect this period shall be ending soon."


	13. DECEPTION

Once she and Malfoy had hastily sorted their way through a minute fraction of their restoration workload, they departed the library together. Just as they had in their first week they made their way to the third floor for Advanced Arithmancy side by side. This time however there was no tension between the pair, the strained silence of weeks past replaced by cordial banter.

As Hermione sat in the Great Hall for dinner that evening she reflected on the day. For what had started out as an immensely taxing day she felt in remarkably good spirits as she finished the last of her minestrone soup. All of the sudden she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise as the sensation of being watched crept over her. Lifting her eyes from her empty bowl she scanned the many faces of the students scattered along the Halls four long tables. Her gaze fell upon the striking crystal blue orbs of the Slytherin wizard on the Halls far side. As her eyes met his, a signature smirk spread across his elegant features. She found that this gesture no longer provoked any ill feeling towards the man, but rather sparked a wanton throbbing deep within her loins. She bit down against her bottom lip and dropped her eyes from his, a slight blush warming her cheeks.

Hermione found herself momentarily taken aback. Where her bowl had been only moments before, a small, decedent chocolate cake had materialised. In delicate white icing the words 'Happy Birthday Granger' were written in neat, slanted script. She recognised Malfoys handwriting immediately and could not halt the smile that broke out across her freckled face. She lifted her head and found his eyes still locked upon her, she mouthed the words 'thank you' and watched as his smirk transformed into a fleeting yet genuine smile. As quickly as it had graced his lips, his mask of composure fell once again across his face, obscuring all trace of emotion.

As she helped herself to her nightly allocation of dreamless sleep potion, Hermione thought on Malfoys gift. He must have slipped down into the kitchens at some point through the day to organise the sweet treat with the elves. Although this had been far from the merriest of her birthdays, she had to admit, the Slytherin wizard had undeniably provided a slither of joy amongst the despair. As she climbed under the covers of her plush bedding, she thought once more on the fleeting smiles that so rarely adorned his lips. 

The morning sun broke through her curtains and stirred Hermione from her slumber. She found herself in a remarkably good mood, tossing the covers from herself as she sprung forth to commence her day. She cast a series of silent charms, swiftly cleansing both her body and teeth. With her uniform on and her hair marginally subdued she made her way out into the Eighth year common room. Across the circular expanse she spotted Harry and Neville about to depart through the portrait hole. She hastened her pace, a slight skip in her step as she called out, "Harry, Neville! Wait for me!"

The two boys paused, turning to face her. "Oh, good morning 'Mione." Harry drawled sleepily. 

Hermione could not help but smile at her best friend, he had never been a morning person. "Are you too heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast? Shall I join you?"

It was Neville who was first to respond, "Ah, not today Hermione. I am supposed to meet Luna in the Clock tower courtyard, she wants to feed the Boulder Whisps over breakfast. In fact, I think I'm running late, I'll see you both later."

As he ducked through the portrait hole with swift wave farewell, Hermione looked to Harry inquisitively. He shrugged and answered her unspoken question, "I honestly have no idea. With Luna a Boulder Whisp could be anything from some fanciful creature to her new code for a snog. Anyway, I'm bloody starving, let’s go."

As they made their way down one of Hogwarts many long corridors it occurred to Hermione how much she had missed this, how much she missed her best friend. It saddened her, the distance that had grown between them since the conclusion of the war. Her temporarily abated sense of loneliness swept over her, shrouding her in familiar despair. She debated with herself, uncertain if she should reveal her true feelings. She felt she needed to voice her discontent in her isolation. Compelled to divulge her grievances she lifted her eyes to Harry. However, the sight of her bespectacled friend gave her pause. 

Harry was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he ambled along with a bounce in his step, "It's bloody brilliant to be back at Hogwarts 'Mione."

How could she possibly express her dissatisfaction following such a remark? She could not bring herself to reciprocate his elation, but she would not be the one to ruin it. She choose to hold her tongue and waited for her friend to elaborate on his jubilation.

"I know we have all been through a lot." He continued. "But despite everything that has happened, this last month has likely been the best of my life. It has been fantastic Hermione. No one has had any crazy expectations of me and not one person has threatened me or anyone I care about. This has been my first chance, my first real chance, to experience a normal life. Normal, boring, spectacular life with friends I care about and the girl I love. I'm really happy 'Mione." 

Harry looked over at her, a twinkle in his green eyes. She forced a small, kind smile onto her face. "I am happy for you Harry." 

It was not a lie, she was happy for him. Her friend deserved his happiness, she knew that. After hearing his words she could not, would not, place the blame for her own loneliness in his hands. He was living his life as any young, carefree man would. Enthralled by his love and oblivious to happenstance beyond his own bubble of joy.

As she and Harry crossed over the threshold into the Great Hall Ginny’s fierce blue eyes snapped up to meet her own, a frown creasing her pale, freckled skin. As they reached the Gryffindor table Ginny stood and reached out to grasp Harry's hand pulling him into an embrace. The red heads eyes did not leave Hermione as she spoke, "Hi Babe. I've saved our seat and have already served up some eggs and sausages for my man."

Hermione did not miss the emphasis on the possessive pronouns and fought the powerful compulsion to roll her eyes. It did not matter how many times she reassured the witch, Ginny would never see her as anything but a romantic threat. Hermione took her seat on the empty stretch of bench as Harry and Ginny became lost to each other, snogging as if not a soul was watching. All she could do was shake her and try her best to ignore the couple. 

She scanned the plethora of breakfast foods before her, deciding at last on a toasted ham and cheese croissant. As she tore the pastry in half she looked up across the Hall anticipating her gaze to fall upon Malfoys silver eyes. Instantly her brows pulled together into a deep furrow, the wizard in question was indeed present. She had not however expected to find Parkinson perched by his side. On closer inspection the pair, in true Slytherin style, appeared to be arguing in a subtle yet intense manner. She marvelled at how they, for the most part, contained their outward emotions, their expressions controlled and body language precisely orchestrated.

How she wished she could read lips. She desired desperately to know what words were being exchanged between the pair. Abruptly Malfoy stood and turned to stride from the Hall, his fury obvious to Hermione even from such a distance. For a brief moment she considered following him into the entry. However doubt plagued her as she internally questioned the parameters of their new friendship. Not wanting to overstep she reluctantly decided to remain seated. As she pulled her attention away from the Great Halls doorway she found herself staring into the dark, soulless eyes of Pansy Parkinson. The Slytherin witch glared down at her over her squashed pug nose, chin evaluated with a pompous air of self-perceived superiority.

Hermione stood by the Halls exit and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Ginny's thorough, frankly nauseating farewell to her boyfriend to conclude. She would never understand the unbridled enthusiasm of publicly displayed affection, even that of hormone fuelled youths. At last Harry broke the couple’s seemingly unbaiting kiss and made his way sluggardly from the Hall. 

Arriving at their Muggle Studies class Harry and herself found Neville already seated at the back of the room. As the pair made their way up the classrooms centre isle Hermione passed by Malfoy. The blonde wizard was evidently still furious, his posture hunched forward and rigid. Hermione could see the obvious tension in his defined shoulder muscles through the cloth of his school robes. She wanted to go to him, to soothe him. But she knew this was the neither the place nor the time for such an interaction. She dropped her eyes to the ground and shuffled her way hesitantly to the back of the class and sat herself beside Neville with a defeated sigh. 

Professor Connor entered the room with a terrified looking Hufflepuff in his wake. The Seventh year boy's eyes darted around the room frantically before coming to rest upon the available seat to Malfoy's left. The boy appeared frozen to the spot as he stared helplessly ahead, blinking slowly with his mouth ever so slightly agape. 

"Please take your seat Mr Ashburn." Conner requested in his heavy Irish accent.  
The boys head swivelled to the Professor as he voiced his protest, "but Sir!"

"I can assure you ma boy. Mr Malfoy here will not bite." Professor Connor smiled kindly at the boy as he gestured towards the empty stool.

Hermione watched as the Hufflepuff slunk forward apprehensively and placed himself gingerly on the edge of his seat, bracing himself as if ready to flee at any given moment. With the class now fully seated Professor Connor turned to his blackboard and began to scrawl the lessons directions. 

For a short moment the room was silent save for the scraping of chalk against the board. The fleeting silence was shattered as a chorus of sniggering broke out from the room’s far side, garnering most of the student’s attention. Hermione looked up, curious as to the source of the commotion. She was unsurprised to find Parkinson and her two Ravenclaw lackeys at the centre of the disturbance. The two Ravenclaw Seventh years were blatantly fawning over her every word. One of the pair, a slim, dark haired wizard, looked out across the room and raised his voice, "No need to worry about Malfoy, Ashburn. He has clearly lost his bite as well as his spine."

The petite blonde witch to Parkinson’s other side broke out into an exasperating cackle, an attitude reflected, albeit in a far more disciplined manner, by a select few of their peers throughout the class. Hermione felt a rage rekindle within her as she glared across the room at Parkinson, it was clear that the two Ravenclaw sycophants were simply parroting her sentiment. 

Conner having patently ignored the ruckus, turned from the blackboard at last and announced, "Please turn to the page indicated on the board and resume your studies on the Third Reich. I shall expect the chapters to be completed and essay returned to me by Tuesday Week." 

The remainder of the lesson passed by in relative quietude, only interrupted briefly by the occasional snicker from Parkinson’s direction. Hermione had continued to observe Malfoy intermittently throughout the class, his evident tension scarcely abating. Before she knew it the period had come to an end, Professor Connor gathered the binders and texts scattered across his desktop before standing to announce, "Do not forget to turn in your essay Tuesday week. Class dismissed." 

Hermione gathered her things with a swift wave of her wand and stood to await Harry and Neville, the pair packing their satchels haphazardly by hand. As the multitude of students began to stand and shuffle their way around the rooms many desks, Connor called out over the cacophony, "Oh, Mr Malfoy! May I please speak with you a moment?"

She watched as the Slytherin wizard weaved his way gracefully through the crowd to where the professor stood. She could not help the curiosity that overcame her as she stepped forward mindlessly. Her outer thigh abruptly came into contact with the hard timber corner of the table top and she winced in pain as she swore under her breath. 

"Merlin 'Mione, what'd the desk ever do to you. Come on let’s get out of here." Harry chuckled. 

As she followed Harry and Neville down the thin corridor outside the Muggle Studies classroom Hermione could not tear her thoughts away from Malfoy. She wanted to know what had caused his confrontation with Pansy and why it had obviously bothered him so. She also felt the overwhelming desire to comfort him in some way, to ease his tension. 

She surrendered to her compulsion and came to a stop, she called out to the boys, "I forgot I wanted to ask Professor Connor a question about the essay, I will see you both later."

The two Gryffindor wizards stopped and looked quizzically back at her for a moment before they shrugged and continued their way down the corridor. Hermione turned and retraced her steps, making her way slowly back to the classroom, back to Malfoy. 

She stopped to lean against the corridors cool stone wall a short distance for the Muggle Studies entrance and awaited the blonde wizard’s appearance. The muffled scream of a women broke through the hallways calm. Hermione grasped her wand immediately, wielding it before her as she began to search for the source of the shriek. She pulled aside a nearby tapestry and revealed a dark, derelict passageway. With a non-verbal Lumos her wand tip burst alight illuminating a short distance before her. She proceeded forward, somewhat trepidly, scanning her surroundings for any sign of imminent threat. 

The light from her wand passed over a mass on the stone floor, she hastened forward and immediately recognised the mass as a student beneath a crumpled heap of school robes. She dashed towards the collapsed, lifeless body, throwing herself to her knees by its side. She reached out and grasped the figure. Too late, she recognised the petite blonde witch as one of Parkinson’s lackeys. 

"Expelliarmus!" The Ravenclaw witch screeched.

Hermione’s still illuminated wand was thrown from her clutches, clattering along the stone floor before coming to rest some distance behind her. She stood swiftly and turned to hastily retrieve her wand. However, she found herself suddenly face to face with the other half of Parkinson’s sycophant duo. 

Instantly the dark haired wizard's hand violently seized her throat and Hermione was slammed down forcefully onto the hard stone floor. Pain radiated throughout her body as his fingers tightened against her throat. 

Her wand light cast long, eerie shadows across her attacker's face, further distorting his manic grin. She struggled to draw breath as she thrashed below him, fighting desperately to escape. 

"Filthy little Mudblood whore. You think you're better than us, but you’re not. You are dirt." The wizard spat.

Without removing his grip on her throat he climbed atop her. As he straddled her the wizard reached his free hand down into the folds of his long robes. Hermione saw the glint of silver as he withdrew a small metal blade. In an instant she was no longer pinned against the cool stone floor of a Hogwarts corridor. She was plunged back to that moment, that horrific moment in Malfoy manor.

_Hermione saw a glint of silver as Bellatrix crouched down over where she lay, sprawled on the marble. Slowly Bellatrix dragged the knife across the skin of Hermione's chest, burning as it carved its path._

The burning sensation in her chest grew in intensity, radiating down her limbs. Her eyes snapped wide open, glaring deep into the eyes of her attacker as her head began to spin from the lack of oxygen. As the Ravenclaw wizard brought his silver knife towards her Hermione felt the blaze within her crackle to the surface. She felt the tip of the cold metal kiss the flush skin of her cheek. An instantaneous, thunderous boom reverberated down the passageways narrow walls as the boy was thrown from her body. 

The tapping of frantic footfalls grew rapidly nearer as the familiar voice of Professor Connor called out, "What in blazin' 'ell is going on 'ere?" 

"Granger!" Malfoy's panic stricken voice cried.

She saw a flash of blonde hair as Malfoy threw himself down at her side. He scooped his strong arms beneath her body and pressed her tight against his chest. Her limbs dangled, limp and heavy as fatigue washed over her. Her eyes struggled to remain focused as she gazed up into his stunning blue orbs. It occurred to her that she felt quite safe nestled in his embrace. She ceased her internal battle to remain alert, allowing herself to slip into unconsciousness.


	14. DAMAGED

Hermione could hear an assortment of muffled voices some distance away. At first it was near impossible for her to discern to whom those voices belonged. It was as if she were somehow submerged, listening to the indistinguishable noise of their distorted words from a great depth. She impelled herself, attempting to focus in on the noise, to discern each syllable from the next. Gradually the words began to grow clearer, as did the identity of those who spoke them.

"Has she yet to wake?" Queried Headmistress McGonagall.

"Not yet, no." Madame Pomfrey responded.

Madame Pomfrey? It dawned on Hermione that she must be in the hospital wing. But why would she be here of all places? She strained her mind, struggling to remember the events that lead to this moment. Grasping at the edges of a fleeting memory she began to recollect glimpses of a derelict corridor and a body crumpled upon the stone. Abruptly she recalled the sight of her attacker’s manic smile and sharp silver blade. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she threw herself bolt upright. The room spun wildly around her as nausea twisted her stomach. She felt herself immediately collapse under her own body weight. A pair of strong hands reached out, clutching onto her shoulders, steadily halting her descent. She called to mind the moments after the attack. Malfoy had cradled her in his arms, embracing her tenderly. She found herself eager to lay her eyes on the blonde wizard once more and turned to face him.

However her eyes fell not upon the striking blue she sought, but rather the bespectacled green of Harry Potter. A momentary sense of intense disappointment sank in her gut as her enthusiasm deflated.

"Careful 'Mione." Harry spoke gently as he slowly removed his hands from her, allowing her to support her own weight. 

"What happened?" She queried.

Harry ruffled his hair nervously. "What do you remember?" 

Hermione thought back over her fleeting segments of disjointed memory as she attempted to piece them back together into some semblance of order. "I heard a scream so I went to investigate. There was a girl on the ground... But it was a trap. She disarmed me and that Ravenclaw boy, he attacked me."

"Fawley, Elias Fawley. A Pureblood. His accomplice was his girlfriend, Lydia Oakley. Fawley has been expelled and arrested pending trial. The girl, she is claiming she did not know his true intent, she insists she believed they were only going to scare you. They have yet to decide her punishment." Harry informed her. 

Hermione heard footsteps heading their way and her head snapped up to face the sound. A particularly grim looking Professor McGonagall marched towards her, a rugged looking wizard in her wake. 

As she reached Hermione's bedside the Headmistress spoke. "Miss Granger, Mr Potter. This is Sigmus Dirk, he is the Auror the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has sent to conduct the investigation into this incident."

Harry reached out, briefly shaking the Auror's hand and offering a curt nod in greeting. Hermione wondered if Harry had any prior interactions with the man as she noted his taut posture. 

Dirk pulled his hand from Harry's grasp promptly and spoke in a gruff tone, "Mr Potter. If you would kindly vacate the wing so I may commence my questioning of the witness."

Hermione could not help but feel unsettled by the Auror’s phrasing. She was beginning to feel as if she were to be interrogated rather than simply questioned as the victim of an assault. 

Harry stood to leave, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he departed. As she heard the hospital wing door close behind him Dirk unfurled a roll of parchment and brought the tip of his quill to his tongue, moistening its tip. "Do you know why you were attacked? Did you have any grievances with the pair? Any outstanding issues that may have provoked this." 

She did not appreciate the implication that she had somehow brought this attack upon herself. She felt her brows knit together as she responded indignantly, "Until Harry told me a moment ago I did not even know their names. We have shared a few classes this year, but honestly I had not paid them too much attention before today."

The Auror grunted under his breath derisively as he scribbled down notes haphazardly on the parchment. Without lifting his eyes from the paper he spoke, "The boy, Elias, I know 'im. He's from a good family. I highly doubt he would attack ya unless ya gave 'im cause."

She felt the rage within her flare alight once more. McGonagall too appeared to be infuriated by the Auror’s transparently biased statement, clearing her throat to speak. However Hermione interjected before the Headmistress had the chance to utter a single word, "I know why I was attacked."

He raised an eyebrow curiously, "And for what reason would that possibly be Miss Granger?"

She sucked in a deep breath through her clenched teeth, willing herself to remain somewhat controlled as she articulated her stance. "Because of my blood. He called me a Mudblood when he attacked me. I think he just wanted to make a statement."

Dirk let slip a sceptical humph as he jotted down a brief note. Without even bringing his eyes up to meet her own the Auror changed the subject. "We have been informed that you performed offensive wandless magic on young Elias Fawley."

McGonagall interceded swiftly, barely holding back her audible outrage. "Offensive? By all accounts Mr Fawley was atop Miss Granger wielding a weapon. Her use of magic, wandless or otherwise, was clearly defensive."

"It was not intentional." Hermione declared honestly. It would not do to bring to light her issues with magical control at this point so she hastily amended, "I do not know how it happened, it is not something I have ever done before today."

"I believe you have obtained sufficient information at this point Mr Dirk. We must let Miss Granger rest now. Please follow me and I shall escort you from the premises." McGonagall stated, turning to stride from the hospital wing without so much as a moment's hesitation. 

Caught off guard by the Headmistress' sudden dismissal and departure the Auror clumsily stuffed his scroll and quill into his rucksack and fumbled after her. 

Hermione allowed herself to fall backwards, collapsing into the pillows with a sigh. They had fought a war, they had won, and yet still such deep seeded prejudices remained. She rubbed at her temples, attempting to drive out the tension the unpleasant interaction had brought. As she lay there massaging the sides of her face she heard new footfalls approaching. She opened her eyes and propped herself up onto her elbows for support. 

Madame Pomfrey approached her, her features stern and unwavering as always. "Mr Malfoy wishes to see you, in fact despite my insistence he has refused to leave all afternoon. Do you wish to see him?"

A multitude of questions raced through her mind. It was the afternoon now? Just how long had she been unconscious? Malfoy wished to see her? He had refused to leave? Her stomach did a strange foreign flutter at the thought of the blonde wizard and she realised abruptly that she could think of no one else she wished to see more than he in this moment. She met Madame Pomfrey’s eyes and smiled coyly. "Yes, I do wish to see him. Please let him in."

Without a word Pomfrey turned and marched towards the hospital wings entrance. From her sick bed she could not see to where the witch retreated. A few moments passed, her anxiety increasing with every one, until at last the tall Slytherin wizard entered the room. He made his way towards her in long elegant strides, concern etched into every feature of his lean, toned body. 

Malfoy sat down on the very edge of the chair by her hospital bed and leaned in towards her. "I saw Sigmus Dirk with McGonagall. Did they really choose that scumbag to conduct the investigation? He is a purist, he was on my father’s payroll for years." Malfoy ranted.

Hermione pulled herself into an upright position and lifted her chin assuredly. "I am confident McGonagall will ensure the matter is dealt with accordingly."

"Fuck Granger, your neck!" He reached out and swept away her locks of wild hair, his finger tip gently grazing against her collarbone as he did so. Hermione inhaled a sharp breath as his touch sent an electric shock down her spine. Malfoy, mistaking her reaction as pain, recoiled from her and balled his hand into a fist. 

"I swear to Merlin, I am going to fucking end that witch." He growled through clenched teeth. 

Hermione tilted her head as a sense of confusion washed over her. "It was Fawley who attacked me, not the girl."

Malfoy lifted his eyes to hers once more, the blue hue of his irises darkened by his temper. "Neither of them would have ever thought to touch you if it hadn't been for Parkinson." 

Now he had pointed it out it was blatantly apparent that the attack was orchestrated by Parkinson's hand. Hermione could not comprehend how that fact had alluded her till now. 

Malfoy sunk his head down into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, his entire form practically vibrating with suppressed rage. 

"I am so sorry." He said lifting his head to look her directly in the eye.

Her brows pulled together in confusion. "For what? You didn't do this to me Malfoy."

Abruptly he slammed his balled fist aggressively down a top his knee. "She... that fucking banshee, she did this to send a message to me. I know you saw us fighting this morning in the Hall. It was about you."

Her eyebrow’s shot up her forehead in surprise, her mouth falling slack. "Me?"

Dropping his gaze from her to the polished floor, his words slipped forth with scarcely concealed fury. "She told me I had had enough fun slumming in the mud. That it was time to remember who I was. I told her to go hex herself and that the person she thought she knew, that person was never my truly me. She just kept insinuating that she knew my true self, even if I had forgotten. She insisted she would find a way to remind me of that. I assumed she would come after me, maybe even try to pathetically seduce me as she had in the past. It never even occurred to me that she would actually try to hurt me through you. I am so sorry Granger."

"This isn't your fault", she reached out and placed her hand atop his balled fist. To her surprised Malfoy relaxed his hand, twisting it palm up and taking her hand in his. She did not know what to make of this gesture but she had not the slightest inclination to fight it. 

In part to distract herself from their current situation, but also from a place of genuine concerned, Hermione queried, "So… my neck. How bad is it?" 

The faintest of smirks briefly graced his lips as he reached his free hand forth to tenderly caress her blemished flesh. "Nothing a bruise slave won’t remedy, it may take a few days though." 

Malfoy promptly pulled his hand from hers as he coughed awkwardly. "I should probably let you get some rest. Besides, I think Madame Pomfrey might actually murder me if she is forced to tolerate my presence any longer." 

He stood and turned to depart without uttering so much as a farewell. Before he could even take his second step, the words tumbled from Hermione’s lips without thought. "Thank you."

He swivelled to face her, his apparent bewilderment written plainly across his features. "For what?"

She wanted desperately to tell him thank you for holding me in your arms this morning, for making me feel safe, protected. The words that left her mouth however were quite different, "for coming to see I was alright."

"Anytime Granger." He smirked.

As he retreated behind the hospital wing door Madame Pomfrey promptly appeared at her bedside, brandishing a tray of various potions and slaves. "You need more rest my dear. Please take these and get some sleep."

Hermione deftly applied her salves to her injured skin and guzzled down both her pain and dreamless sleep potions eagerly. She slummed back into her plush cushion and embracing her fatigue, allowed her heavy eyelids to fall closed. 

_Hermione stood in the large drawing room of Malfoy Manor, her hands bound along with Ron and Harry. Narcissa Malfoy turned to the werewolf currently holding them hostage, "Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."_

_"Wait," interjected Bellatrix sharply. "All except... except for the Mudblood."_

_To this Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure._

_"NO!" Shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!" _

_Bellatrix lashed out, striking Ron across the face, "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my books. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them - yet."_

_Hermione watched as she tossed the werewolf back his wand and pulled a short silver knife from her robes. She reached down and cut Hermione free from Ron and Harry. Bellatrix grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her into the centre on the room. She could see from the corner of her eye the boys being forced out of the room by Greyback. _

_Bellatrix, her hand still firmly in Hermione's hair, forced her to her knees. Bellatrix stepped back raising her wand at the young witch in front of her. With a crazed smirk she shouted, "Crucio!"_

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she launched herself off the bed wildly. Her surroundings were dark, scarcely illuminated by the faint flicker of sporadic candlelight. She fumbled around in the darkness as she searched desperately for her wand. As she began to realise her search was in vain her sense of panic deepened. Each breath she took more rapid and shallow than the last. The anxious pressure that had built in her chest raced down her limbs. The now all too familiar crackle of magic danced across her skin, causing her fine body hair to stand on end in its wake. 

From the corner of her eye Hermione could have sworn she saw movement. She spun on her heal to face the perceived threat, throwing her hand out before her instinctively. From her fingertips burst forth an array of brilliant sparkling light. The tray that had been placed on her bedside table flew away from her with great force, abruptly colliding with the wall. The resounding crash of metal on stone echoed through the silence. 

"Miss Granger!" Madame Pomfrey hissed as she shuffled her way forward hastily, dressed in her woollen night gown. Her wand light irradiated her wrinkled skin, only further enhancing her enraged appearance.

At the sight of Madame Pomfrey Hermione instantly recalled her whereabouts and released a relieved sigh. 

"You will wake my other patients with this commotion!" Pomfrey continued as she reached where Hermione stood. 

"I... I'm sorry. I woke and for a moment I did not know where I was. Would it be alright if I could gather my belongings and return to my quarters Madame Pomfrey?"

Pomfrey inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose before expelling a long, exasperated breath. "At this hour I would normally forbid any student from leaving my care. But I suppose given your position as an Eighth year I guess I could make an exception this once. Please wait just a moment and I will fetch your things."

With her wand and belongings returned to her Hermione set out for the Astronomy Tower. She moved swiftly, wand clutched tightly before her as she made her way along the seemingly deserted corridors. She could not help but flinch each time the occupant of a portrait stirred from their slumber, alerted to her passing. As she passed through the threshold of the Eight year common room her anxiety had yet to abate, the crackle of magical tension across her skin having never fully dissipated. She crossed the circular expanse hastily and entered her room. She closed the door behind her, locking and warding the entry before leaning back against the solid timber for support. She drew is deep wavering breaths and at last the tension began to diminish. 

She was surprised to find herself once again exhausted, her ordeal proving more taxing than first anticipated. Deciding she ought to rest some more, she made her way to her nightstand. Opening the drawer she withdrew her vial of violet liquid, uncorked the potion and swallowed her nightly allocation. She threw herself down atop her covers, her face buried in a swathe of wild curls. Closing her eyes she welcomed slumber, fully clothed and wand still firmly in her grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Up until now I haven’t really left an author’s note, but that has mostly been due to my own anxieties. So I have decided to put my big girl panties on and strive to interact with all my lovely reader’s a little more. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, we finally have some Dramione interactions! I have warned you though, this is a slow-burn, so prepare yourself for the onslaught of mutual pining that is to come.
> 
> Please read and review.
> 
> Love LilithShade x


	15. HAUNTED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit violence and a non-consensual, graphic rape sex scene. These scenes take place in a memory/nightmare scenario and will be in italics if you wish to skip them, the last seven paragraphs of this chapter being the most graphic. The experience is integral to the overall plot and therefore I will add another quick author note to the end of the chapter to summarise the events for those who choose not to read.

_Hermione watched as Bellatrix tossed the werewolf back his wand and pulled a short silver knife from her robes. She reached down and cut Hermione free from Ron and Harry. The deranged witch grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her into the centre on the room. From the corner of her eye she could see the boy’s being forced out of the room by Greyback. _

_Bellatrix, her hand still firmly in Hermione's hair, forced her to her knees. She stepped back and raised her wand at the young witch in front of her. With a crazed smirk she shouted, "Crucio!"_

_Hermione fell face first onto the polished marble floor, her body contorted under the sheer force of the pain she felt. In the distance she heard a blood curdling scream, only it wasn't distant, it was her voice, her scream. Just as she thought the pain would never end, the spell ceases. Bellatrix lifted Hermione's head from the floor by her hair, kneeling in front of her, she demanded, "where did you get this sword?" _

_Hermione, refusing to answer gazed adamantly at the floor._

_"Crucio!"_

_The pain burnt through her body once more, ripping from her a deafening scream._

_Again the pain eased and Bellatrix was in front of her once more. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?" _

_Hermione gathered her strength to spit out an answer, "We found it... we found it... PLEASE!" She screamed as Bellatrix began the Cruciatus Curse a new._

_"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth! CRUCIO!”_

Hermione’s eyes flew open and she pulled herself into a sitting position atop her bed. Hair matted and damp with sweat. The sun had now risen above the horizon and its warm rays of light streamed in through her window. Clambering from her bed she crossed the room to stand before her simple floor length mirror. She gazed into her own reflection, noting her dishevelled appearance. Lifting her chin she assessed the damage to her neck and winced in pain. The skin was immensely tender, though thankfully the bruise salve had evidently had some impact. Her marred skin was not the deep, violent tone she had expected, the markings having already faded to the earthy hue of an injury days passed. 

Her body stiff and unresponsive, she groaned outwardly as she reached up to sweep the matted hair from the tacky surface of her face. In desperate need of a shower, quickly she gathered a fresh set of school robes and set out for the Eighth year bathroom facilities. 

As she crossed the threshold into the large room, Hermione’s stride faltered. She found herself face to face with the last witch she desired to encounter.

"What happened to your neck Granger? Your skin is looking a tad muddy. I hope that tainted blood of yours doesn't stain you permanently." Parkinson smirked. Hermione could not help the thought that crossed her mind, that that particular expression was far less appealing on her smug face, than it had become on a certain blonde.

Hermione inhaled a deep, calming breath through her nose and tried to ignore the pug faced wenches words. Stepping forward, she crossed Parkinson’s path in silence.

The Slytherin witch, clearly unable to accept Hermione’s lack of rebuttal, stamped her foot in a juvenile display. "He has forgotten who his is and what you are. But mark my word, he will remember his place." The Slytherin witch hissed before retreating through the bathroom’s ornate double doors. 

An ache in her jaw caused Hermione to abruptly realise she had been clenching her teeth throughout the duration of their unpleasant encounter. Shutting her eyes tight, she willed herself to focus on her breathing as she massaged her taut facial muscles. A shower simply would not suffice to undo the strain she felt within her body. Gazing down at the elaborate sunken bath in the centre of the room, she acknowledged that if ever there were a time that warranted a decompressing soak, surely her current circumstance would qualified. She knelt down at the baths edge and examined its many silver taps curiously. There was no system of labels or any indication whatsoever as to what tap served what purpose. Closing her eyes she conjured to mind the memory of a pleasant scent and with a swift flick of her wand water burst forth from the array of spouts. Hermione could not help but grin as she watched the water level in the large sunken bath rise rapidly. The hot liquid swirled and frothed, a mass of shimmering bubbles forming on its surface. As steam began to fill the rooms great expanse a sweet vanilla aroma graced her senses. 

Removing her sweat stained clothes eagerly from her body Hermione plunged herself into the depths of the tub. Inhaling deeply, she held her breath as she submerged herself fully beneath the water. As she rose up and broke through the surface she exhaled, expelling the pent up tension from within her. Swiftly she scrubbed her body, relishing the sensation of the heat against her flesh. With her body cleansed she leant back against the baths stone edge, allowing her limbs to float freely as she relaxed amongst the suds. She found herself scrutinising Parkinson’s words, the Slytherin witch had been unfalteringly sure of herself. Though the more she thought on the matter, the more Hermione became steadfast in her conviction. The wizard she had come to know over the weeks passed was truly the man Malfoy wished to be. She was certain he would never return to his old behaviours. Finding herself surprised yet comforted by the absolute confidence of her realisation, Hermione released a soft sigh.

Suddenly the bathrooms ostentatious timber door creaked open and Hermione let slip a startled squeak. Realising far too late that in the wake of Parkinson’s departure her mind had been distracted and she had neglected to cast a locking charm. She turned her head towards the entrance, mouth agape as her eyes fell upon Malfoy. The wizards chest was bare, his simple cotton pyjama bottoms hanging low on his angular hips. He stood there in stunned silence, towel thrown over his shoulder and wand tucked haphazardly into his waistband. Hermione hastily sunk down further into the waters depths, gathering masses of shimmering bubbles frantically towards her with her arms in a pitiful attempt to obscure the exposed flesh of her naked body. Blood rushed to her face and she felt her cheeks grow warm as a profuse blush spread across her features.

Malfoy remained frozen in stunned silence as his eyelids fluttered rapidly. Abruptly he shook his head and spun on his heal. As he turned his back on her he called out. "Sorry Granger! I honestly had no clue anyone was even in here." 

She appreciated his obvious attempt to protect her modesty and she felt herself relax a small degree. Regaining a semblance of control over her composure she looked up at wizard before her. With closer inspection she noted the perceptible tension of his lean, muscular back. Overcome by the compulsion to reassure him, she felt the need to clarify that she placed no blame on him for his unintentional intrusion. "No. It's my fault Malfoy. It turns out I neglected to lock the door." 

"Well, I will let you finish your bath then. See you later." He supplied briskly as he raised his hand in the air and offered a brief gesture in farewell. He hastily departed the room without so much as a secondary glance in her direction. Arm snapping up from the water, she grasped her wand, swiftly casting the necessary charms to thoroughly lock the door in his wake. 

In his absence she thought back over their interaction, her mind replayed the sight of his sculpted abdominal muscles and low hanging pants. She recalled the rigidity of his posture as he had courteously turned away, as if he had been holding his breath. If Hermione was not mistaken, in that very moment she had seen him reach down and swiftly adjust himself through the thin material of his cotton sleepwear. 

Unable to prevent the grin that spread across her face, she bit down on her lower lip sensually. Had the sight of her naked form really brought about such arousal in him? She had never felt truly attractive, truly desirable to a man before. She embraced the feeling, savouring the sense of power it brought. 

She rinsed the last of the dissipated bubbles from her flesh and turned to face the baths ledge. Placing both palms open on the stone floor she lifted herself from the water in one clean motion. She stood, stretching her arms up above her head, water drops falling from her breasts and tracing the curves of her body as she did so. With a series of non-verbal spells she deftly dried both her body and hair. Leaving her long locks to fall down across her shoulders, hiding the sight of her blemished neck. Pulling on her long school robes she gathered her things and set out to embark on her day.

As she readied herself for bed that night Hermione pulled the small vial of dreamless sleep potion from her beside drawer. As she uncorked its stomper and brought the liquid to her lips she prayed it would keep the night terrors at bay. Laying her head down upon her pillow she willed herself to focus on pleasant thoughts as she drifted into slumber.

_Again the pain ripped through her, she tried to search for something, anything, to anchor her to reality. With each use of the Cruciatus Curse she could feel herself slipping away, something deep inside her breaking._

_"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix commanded. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?" _

_"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. She needed to think, she needed to find something Bellatrix could believe. At all costs she could not let the crazed witch know they had the real sword of Gryffindor._

_"It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" _

_"A copy?" Screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"_

_Lucius's voice drifted into her focus, "But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"_

_Hermione prayed the goblin would lie, they couldn't know the truth. Suddenly she was aware that Bellatrix was straddling her lap, her small silver blade in her grasp. Hermione felt the witch’s breathe on her ear, "I know you were in there! What did you take from my vault?"_

_With a feeble whimper Hermione responded, "I wasn't, I didn't take anything!" She felt the material being ripped from her right arm. Once again, she felt the searing pain of Bellatrix's knife upon her skin. Turning her head, she saw the witch was carving crude letters deep into her flesh, M - U - D - B. Hermione tore her gaze from the horrific sight, her remaining strength slowly leaving her body._

_Vaguely aware that Bellatrix was no longer butchering her skin, Hermione heard the witch’s manic voice a short distance away, "Well? Is it the true sword?"_

_"No," she heard Griphook say. "It is a fake."_

_"Are you sure?" Bellatrix panted. "Quite sure?" _

_"Yes." The goblin replied._

_"Good." Hermione could hear the relief in Bellatrix’s voice. She felt her own sense of relief, they had fooled the witch. Now all she hoped was that Harry and Ron could get away, and complete their task. _

_"And now," Bellatrix announced, her voice triumphant, "we call the Dark Lord!"_

_Hermione felt her grasp on consciousness falter, the voices in the room growing distant._

_"And I think." Bellatrix spoke with indifference, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you wish. Do with her what pleases you."_

_Greyback grinned wickedly, bearing his sharp, fanged teeth. He pounced on her immediately, his back hunched with a bestial quality. Reaching down, he grabbed a fist full of her now blood matted hair and began to drag her across the marble floor. _

_"Oh no, n-no… NO! This can't be happening!" Hermione cried weakly to herself, not a soul in her presence paying heed to her frantic pleas. She hoped in vain that someone, anyone would come and save her from this terrible fate._

_As if reading her mind, Greyback crouched down and breathed in her ear, "No one is coming to save you little girl, you’re all mine now!" Snarling the last word, he lifted her from the ground by her hair, tossing her like a limp rag doll across the threshold of an adjacent room._

_Landing on the cold stone floor with a thud, Hermione whimpered weakly. Her body was beyond fatigued from the torture and blood loss. She needed to move. She needed to get away from this crazed Werewolf. She needed to survive. A surge of adrenaline radiated throughout her body, rushing to her limbs. Frantically, she started to crawl, to pull herself away from the predator at her heels. Her palms slipped atop the smooth surface, slick from the blood oozing of her open wounds. Behind her, Greyback let loose a guttural, manic roar of laughter. His clawed digits seized her ankle roughly, tugging her back to where she had begun. _

Gasping for air Hermione air pulled herself into an upright, alert position. She knew all too well the horrors that came next in her recurrent nightmare and cared not to experience them again. Suppressing the logical component of her brain that knew she would undoubtedly regret the action at a later time, she reached into her drawer and uncorked the violet potion once more. Draining the vial of every last drop she collapsed backwards, her eyes rolling back in her head as the glass toppled from her loose grasp and shattered upon her bedroom floor. 

A warmth spread over her body gently coaxing Hermione from her slumber. Prying open her sleep heavy eyelids, she took in the golden glow of her surroundings. She had not felt so thoroughly rested in weeks. Stretching her limbs, she savoured the pleasant sensation before pulling herself upright into a seated position. She tossed the covers from her legs and swung them off the side of her bed to stand. A sudden excruciating pain tore through the sole of her foot and Hermione swore, stumbling backwards onto her mattress. Glancing down at her feet and was overcome by a fleeting sense of confusion as she took in the scene. The floor was littered with shards of broken glass and the spattering of her own crimson blood. Immediately the night’s events flooded her memory and the realisation hit her that she had recklessly consumed her full week’s allowance of dreamless sleep. Hermione groaned loudly and she reached for her wand. She stemmed the flow of blood, healing her wound before clearing away the shattered vial. 

It was becoming clear to her that Parkinson’s orchestrated attack had caused a greater burden on her psyche than first anticipated. With the symptoms of her post traumatic stress disorder growing ever stronger, she admitted she needed help. She needed to talk to someone. Dressing quickly, Hermione collected her things and strode out into the Eighth year common room. 

To her surprise she did not need search far for whom she sought. Directly in front of her sat Harry, lazily tying his shoelace as he yawned sleepily. Hermione dashed forward and threw herself down in the seat beside him. Harry looked up wide eyed and blinked slowly before he spoke, "Oh! Mornin' 'Mione."

"Hi Harry. Listen, do you think we could have a talk?"

Harry reached up and tussled his hair. "Ah yeah, of course. Right now I am on my way to meet Ginny for breakfast though. Mind if we catch up at lunch?"

Feeling herself deflate a increment she forced herself nod in agreement and watched Harry stroll off, a joyous spring to his step. 

Perched on the bench of the Gryffindor’s long house table Hermione awaited Harry to arrive for their lunch as promised. She watched the Halls entrance attentively, searching for her bespectacled best friend. When he entered the Hall without his red headed shadow in tow Hermione allowed herself a small relieved sigh. 

"Hey 'Mione." Harry said as he took his seat and began to pile an odd assortment of food onto his plate. "So what did you want to talk about?"

She inhaled and expelled a deep calming breath, this was her chance. "I need to talk to someone Harry, I need to talk to my friend."

Harry pulled his eyes away from his half demolished steak and kidney pie and tilted his head curiously, "What’s up?"

"Well... Honestly I don't even know where to begin." She muttered, dropping her eyes to her hands. She needed to gather her thoughts, find the right way to explain what she had been suffering through. 

"Oh there you are babe!" Hermione heard Ginny call and her shoulders sunk in defeat. 

"Ginny, I told you I needed to talk to Hermione." Harry remarked and Hermione felt a wave of affection for her friend.

Hermione looked up to see Ginny pouting pathetically. The Gryffindor witch edged forward and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend possessively. She brought her lips down to Harry’s ear and spoke in a pseudo whisper, "Baby, you know I don't like being away from my man." 

As Ginny leaned is and claimed his lips Hermione sighed, her moment was gone. 

"He doesn't mean it you know."

Hermione’s head snapped around to face the source of the whimsical voice. Behind her in the isle stood Luna, her facial expression, or lack thereof, as unreadable as ever. 

"Harry." She continued, answering Hermione’s unspoken question. "He doesn't mean to disregard your feeling."

Hermione sighed as her shoulders slumped. "I know."

For a brief moment she considered speaking to Luna, divulging the inner most workings of her troubled mind. However, as much as she desperately needed to speak to someone, she had never been particularly close to the Ravenclaw witch. 

The sun had long set yet still Hermione was unwilling to face the threat of sleep. She sat in the Eighth year common room alone by the light of the fireplace, a half consumed Firewhisky bottle nestled in her lap. She had tried in vain to retreat to her quarters for the evening, but her bedroom had felt isolated and suffocatingly small. In her desperation she had chosen to resort to her old methods of driving away the terror. So here she sat, drowning her fears in alcohol, praying a dreamless expanse on unconsciousness would claim her. 

A part of her had hoped that by situating herself in the common room that perchance she would encounter a certain blonde wizard. But the hour grew late and her hopes of seeing Malfoy had long diminished.

Swaying back and forth ever so slightly she gazed into the depths of the fires glowing embers. She found it increasingly difficult to raise her eyelids with each passing blink. Suddenly the sound of the portrait hole opening broke the room’s heavy silence and Hermione sat upright, newly alert.

By the dying light of the fire Hermione could only just recognise Anthony Goldstein as he walked by. "Merlin Goldstein, you were out late."

Goldstein did not so much as flinch as her words shattered the room’s quietude. He walked right by her, not bothering to utter a response and disappeared into his own room. Hermione shrugged, perhaps he had stayed out late with a witch and wished not to discuss it, who was she to judge. She glanced down at her substantially lightened bottle of Firewhisky and conceded that she too should retreat to her own lodgings for the night. She did not wish for anyone to happen upon her thrashing about on the common room lounge come morning. 

She swung her bedroom door closed behind her and mumbled a series of locking charms. She brought the neck of the glass bottle to her lips and swallowed one last mouthful of the numbing amber liquid for good measure. Placing the near empty bottle down on her timber desktop she stumbled forward, shuffling her legs free from the confines of her pants and collapsed in a heap atop her bed. 

_ Landing on the cold stone floor with a thud, Hermione whimpered weakly. Her body was beyond fatigued from the torture and blood loss. She needed to move. She needed to get away from this crazed Werewolf. She needed to survive. A surge of adrenaline radiated throughout her body, rushing to her limbs. Frantically, she started to crawl, to pull herself away from the predator at her heels. Her palms slipped atop the smooth surface, slick from the blood oozing of her open wounds. Behind her, Greyback let loose a guttural, manic roar of laughter. His clawed digits seized her ankle roughly, tugging her back to where she had begun._

_"You’re not going anywhere Mudblood!" Greyback growled, grabbing her shoulder and forcefully flipping her onto her back. Her head cracked on the marble, pain shooting down her spine and vision blurring at the edges. Greyback grasped her jaw, his claw like nails digging into her flesh. He turned her face so she was looking directly up into his dark, soulless eyes. He was so close, flecks of his saliva spattered her face as he spoke. "Uh uh, little Mudblood, I want you awake, I want to see you suffer." Hermione was overwhelmed by the stench of rotten flesh upon his breath. She was immediately aware that this was it, this was how she was going to die._

_Still holding her jaw firmly in his grip, he began to slowly undo her jacket with his other hand. Hermione panicked, she was certain he was going to murder her, but this was worse, so much worse than she had first realised. She started to kick and thrash, attempting to throw the large werewolf off her much smaller form. _

_Leaning in Greyback languidly licked the side of her face, stopping at her ear he whispered hoarsely, "Good girl, I like it better when you try to fight."_

_Prying her legs apart with his knees, he pressed his pelvis forcefully onto hers. Through their clothing Hermione could feel his arousal pushing against her core. She tried to squirm, to buck him off her, her attempts only further hastened his ministrations, as he ground his bulge harder into her heat. _

_With an animalistic growl Greyback reached down between them, ripping her garments to shreds. Suddenly her lower half was exposed, only shredded denim remained, hanging limply from her lower legs. A sound of sick appreciation vibrated from his throat, as tears began to leak from Hermione's eyes. She tried in vain to struggle, unwilling to give in. Greyback reached down between them, finding the button of his slacks. Unfastening his pants, he slid them down his thighs and grasped his engorged cock. Hermione became suddenly rigid, save for her quivering jaw as she felt him, slick with his own pre-cum slide up and down her folds. _

_Abruptly he thrust his full length deep inside her, tearing through her virginity. Hermione wailed, more pain then she could have ever fathomed radiating within her. Grunting, Greyback began to pump in and out of her with incredible force. Hermione, tears flowing freely, had ceased fighting the monster, resigned to her fate. As his pace began to quicken, she felt his cock start to spasm within her. With one final thrust, he arched his head backwards half growling, half howling, as his seed filled her. Panting, Greyback looked down at her, moving his hand to grasp a fistful of her hair. He tugged at her hair roughly, causing Hermione to expose her slender neck. With his cock still buried deep instead her he lent down, sinking his sharp teeth into her throat, tearing away her flesh. _

A/N: For those who chose to skip the violent scenes I will provide a brief summary of Hermione’s reoccurring night terror. After being tortured by Bellatrix in Malfoy Manor, Hermione is given to Greyback. She is raped by the werewolf and murdered by having her throat torn out by his teeth. 

I contemplated glazing over this scene and only alluding to the rape and violence. However I have chosen to address these issues in detail as it will have significant impact on the story going forward. This story has a primary focus on trauma, mental health and PTSD, I felt it was only right to fully depict the level of ongoing trauma those with PTSD experience. 

Please read and review.  
LilithShade x


	16. TAINTED

Draco lay atop his silken emerald sheets as he twirled his hazel wood wand skilfully between his dexterous fingers. The suns light was due to break the distant horizon soon and yet once again he had been unable to sleep. Deep seeded insomnia, just one of the multitude of invisible scars he now bore. He had not experienced a truly restful night since before the war, before that mad man had inhabited the prison he had once called home. His eyes drifted from his wand to his inner forearm where the ever-present patch of marred flesh remained, obscured from sight by the cloth of his long sleeved shirt. He pulled himself into a seated potion with an exasperated huff. Stretching upward, he grasped a fist full of the material that rest against his upper back, before pulling the shirt up and over his head. Discarding the piece of clothing to the floor with unnecessary force he glared down at the distorted mark. His misguided attempts to violently remove the dark mark had left it deformed yet no less prominent. He placed the tip of his wand against the vile blemish and non-verbally cast a glamour charm. Draco watched as the mark faded from his skin and like always he held his breath. As it had each time before the dark mark reappeared swiftly and he expelled the air from his lungs in defeat. He knew he needed to face the truth that he would remain marked, forever branded. But he could not, would not bring himself to accept that fate. His frustration grew, twisting and morphing until his anger consumed him. 

Aggressively he slashed his wand out before him. Yet nothing happened. He groaned and focused his attention on his own reflection in the tall mirror opposite his bed. Lifting his wand once more he roared, "flipendo! Depulso! BOMBARDA!"

Still the mirror remained intact. Draco launched himself from his bed his fist clenched tight. If his magic had abandoned him he would resort to shattering the glass the Muggle way. He brought his fist back ready to strike when suddenly he heard an all too familiar shriek. He knew instantly to whom that terrible sound belonged. It had been etched deep into his memory that horrid night he had stood by and watched his psychotic aunt torture her upon his parlour floor. 

Without a second thought he swiftly collected his discarded wand from his silken covers and threw open his bedroom door. He cleared the expanse of the circular room in great strides and reached out, grasping the handle of her door. It was locked. He pounded his fist against the solid timber and called out, "Granger!"

He could hear her strangled cries from behind the thick door, he desperately needed to get to her. He raised his wand and adeptly cast a series of advanced diagnostic charms, revealing the complex series of wards Grangers had placed. One by one he deftly countered each of the room’s vigorous protections. With the wards cracked he aimed his wand at the doors lock and cast a final, silent Alohomora before bursting through the doorway and into her bedroom.

There was no sign of the attacker Draco had feared, only Granger thrashing atop her mattress. Her sheets tangled around her flailing limbs and skin clammy with perspiration. He closed her bedroom door behind him and rushed forward to her side. As he approached he could see her tearing at the tender flesh of her own neck with her sharp fingernails. He knelt down beside her and grasped her wrists, attempting to halt her self-infliction. As he pinned down her wrists Grangers eyes snapped open wildly and she began to lash out with renewed vigour. Draco released her wrists and raised his hands in the air as if to surrender, attempting to demonstrate he was no threat.

"M... Malfoy?" Granger queried breathlessly as she pulled herself in to a seated position.

For a moment she visually calmed, as if acknowledging his presence as non-menacing. However, her composure quickly unravelled as her eyes glazed over, growing distant. She began to shake, hugging her arms around herself tightly as she rocked back and forth rhythmically. Acting on purely instinct alone Draco pulled himself up onto the bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her slim waist he pulled her gently back into himself and nestled her against is bare chest. Lifting one hand, leaving the other wrapped securely around her abdomen, he slowly guided her head down, tucking it below his chin. He began to hush her comfortingly as he swept the wild, sweat damp locks of hair from her face.

As he held her in his warm embrace her shaking began to gradually subside. Draco pulled his eyes from her and scanned the room. On her desk he noted a discarded bottle of Firewhisky, very near empty. He tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and sure enough he could smell the pungent scent of the liquor upon her breath. He was no stranger to the drink himself, but he would not of thought Granger would be one to abuse it to this extent, especially given they had classes to attend come morning. 

Granger inhaled deeply before releasing a lengthy sigh, the warm air causing a pleasant tickling sensation as it passed through the patch of dark blonde hair in the centre of his chest. Only then did it occur to Draco their mutual state of undress. He looked down over the woman pressed against his naked torso and sucked in a sharp breath. Granger lay there, clothed is naught but her white cotton panties and a sheer singlet. He tried in vain to avert his eyes from her exposed flesh, his mind recalling the moment he had stumbled upon her bathing and caught the briefest glimpse of her exposed breasts. Just as he had that morning he felt himself begin to stiffen within the confines of his cotton pyjama pants. Carefully he eased Granger off his chest and adjusted his position, narrowly avoiding his growing erection firmly pressing into her back.

His movements appeared to rouse the Gryffindor witch back into the moment as she pulled herself fully upright and turned to face him, a quizzical look written across her features, "Malfoy? How did you get in here?"

"You were screaming." 

Shuffling down the bed she turned her body to face him front on, pulling her knees up as she wrapped her arms around them. "Oh, I must have forgotten the silencing charm last night... But how did you actually get in here?" She asked again. 

Draco reached his hand up and ran his fingers through his fine blonde hair anxiously, "I broke your wards. I am sorry about the breach of privacy. I just couldn't stand by and do nothing." Not again, he thought. 

Hermione chuckled softly catching him by surprise, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "They were some extremely advanced wards I had placed Malfoy. Not to mention the standard Hogwarts security wards. How on earth did you crack them?"

He couldn't help it, his signature smirk spread across his face and he lifted his palms face up to either side of his body, demonstrating an exaggerated shrug. "I am actually quite intelligent you know." 

He had expected Granger to quip back as she normally would, however the usual fire did not spark alight behind her warm brown eyes. Instead the witch's brow furrowed deeply as she gnawed absently at her lower lip. He followed the line of her gaze and his eyes fell upon his exposed dark mark. He pulled his arms up, crossing them against his body. "Fuck. I'm sorry. You really shouldn't have to see that."

Unexpectedly Granger reached out and grasped his arm, tugging it out from its locked position against his abdomen. She pulled the limb out towards her, turning his inner forearm skyward. She gently placed her finger on his skin and slowly traced the outline of the abhorrent brand. The confronting situation caused him to feel immensely vulnerable, yet he did not move to stop her. 

She looked up from his forearm and gazed into his eyes as if searching for the answer to some ancient, complex puzzle, "What did you do to it?"

"What do you mean?" He asked defensively, attempting to ignore the concern etched plainly into her features.

She arced a single eyebrow, "and you just claimed to be intelligent. Do not lie to my Malfoy."

He had not spoken to a single soul about this before now, yet something within him compelled him to open up to the witch. He sighed deeply and admitted, "I tried to cut it out."

"Oh God!" Granger exclaimed. "You know as well as I that would never work Malfoy. You could have killed yourself!"

She was right of course, he had known it was a pointless endeavour. Had he been suicidal at the time? Perhaps he had been. He looked down at the ugly patch of distorted skin as he spoke softly, "If his taint was on you, part of you, you would likely try anything to get rid of it as well."

He was suddenly caught off guard as Granger launched herself towards him. She threw herself against his chest, her arms reaching around his shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace. At first he froze, unaccustomed to any form of affection or expression of comfort. He forced himself to inhale, drawing in a deep and steady breath, his body relaxing into hers. Apprehensively he reach out and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head into the mass of wild curls in the crook of her neck.

Here she was, this brilliant, caring witch comforting him. Given the circumstances of his presence it should be he whom was providing comfort to her. He inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of vanilla and Firewhisky against her lightly freckled skin. He lifted his head and gently pushed her body back from his, yet he did not relinquish his grip upon her waist as he held her at arm’s length. He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke. "You know you can talk to me about it if you like, whatever it is that is haunting you."

Granger's shoulders sank instantly at his words, her eyes falling despondently to the mattress between them. "I... I don't even know where to begin."

"Why don't you start with why you were screaming in your sleep?" Draco supplied.

She remained silent for a long moment as if in deep contemplation. Eventually she straightened her posture and crossed her legs casually in front of her, bring her eyes up to meet his. "I have been having a dream, the same unrelenting dream almost every night. Well, a nightmare honestly. Part of it is a memory of what happened to me. What happened to me.... in your Manor." 

"I'm so sor..." he started.

Granger swiftly cut him off mid-sentence. "Do not apologise for what she did to me. None of what happened to me that night is your fault. Regardless, it isn't so much the memory that haunts me. It's what comes next that petrifies me, what my mind fabricated. Events that are not real but easily could have been."

"I think about it all the time, what might have happened if Dobby had not recued you all." He admitted. 

"We would have died. There is not a single doubt about that in my mind. It is not my death that plagues my dreams though. It is the events that lead to that inevitable fate." Granger trembled as she spoke.

He could not help his curiosity, against his own better judgements he asked, "In this nightmare, what leads to your death?"

Granger’s eyes welled with tears as she muttered, "Greyback."

"Oh..." was all that fell from his lips, startled by her response. 

Granger inhaled a ragged breath and elaborated, "Bellatrix... she promised me to him that night, once she was through with me. I know what he did to the others. The other women... and girls, that he was given. I know how they all died." 

Fenrir, fucking, Greyback. No wonder Granger had been haunted by her nightmares, left thrashing in her sleep. He too knew the horrors that man, no not a man, that beast had committed. As loath as he was to admit is, Granger was not wrong. Had she remained in the manor that night, her death would have been brought by Greyback’s hands. Draco clenched his fists as he began to shake with overwhelming rage. "That sick fucking bastard!" He exclaimed. 

"It's just a dream. Well for me at least." She whispered sombrely. 

He hated that she was living through this torment, his brows creasing as he queried, "Can you not take a potion to prevent this reoccurring?"

Granger gnawed at her lip nervously before responding, "Madame Pomfrey has prescribed me a dreamless sleep potion, I take it every night. Well at least I am meant to. After Fawley's attacked I.... I struggled. My anxiety has been horrific, and the nightmares kept coming, despite my use of the draught. I just continued recklessly taking more of it and before I knew it I had drained the vial of every last drop. It is a well-controlled substance and I knew there was no way Pomfrey would provide more before I was due to see her on Monday. So I turned to drinking, thought perhaps if I drank myself unconscious I would remain so until morning. Obviously I was mistaken. It's only Friday Malfoy! What am I going to do?" 

He thought for a moment, what could he possibly do to help her in this situation? A part of him desperately wanted to offer to remain by her side, to comfort her through the long nights. He knew however that that proposal would be far too forward, so instead he replied, "I'm not sure. But we will figure it out."

To this Granger offered the smallest of sincere smiles. "I do know one thing though." He continued. "And I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I don't think either of us should be relying on alcohol anymore."

She sighed as she gazed at the near empty Firewhisky bottle forlornly. "I know Malfoy. It won’t do me any good."

Draco recalled how she had spoken of how her anxiety had worsened after her attack. He seized the opportunity to ask of her a question that had been on his mind some time now. "You mentioned your anxiety. Does that have anything to do with your unintentional magical outbursts?”

Granger’s mouth fell agape as her eyes widened in shock. "Bu... but how did you know about that?"

Draco smirked. "I am a very observant person Granger. Besides, have you forgotten that I was on the receiving end of said magic myself on our very first day back?"

She grimaced in response to his words, "Oh I am sorry about that! The crowds, they really got to me that day. I have very little control over it, I have been having these panic attacks. Very occasionally I can regain control, focus my breathing and suppress my magic. But most of the time it is as if I have completely lost control of it. It builds inside me, I can feel it. I haven’t lacked control of it like this since I was a child."

"Has Potter tried to help you, has he even noticed?" Draco asked, already knowing with near certainty the answer.

She looked at her heads and fidgeted with her fingers, "I... well. I tried to speak with him about it. I don't want to trouble him with my issues though. He is happy this year."

Of course the fucking scar head hadn't noticed. The prick was so obviously infatuated with the little female weasel it was a surprise he still knew how to function. Even though he had known the answer, Grangers response had infuriated him. She had done so much to save his chosen arse time and time again, and now it came to her needing help and he hadn't so much as noticed anything was wrong. 

"I am happy for him though, I truly am." 

She smiled brilliantly just as the suns morning rays broke the horizon and filled the room with dazzling golden hues. The sunlight fell upon her face highlighting the small copper flecks scattered throughout the warm brown tones of her eyes. She was beyond beautiful. Draco fought the urge to reach out and sweep her curled hair gently behind her ear. He needed to leave now, before he acted on his impulse.

"I should probably get going and get ready for class." He said as he climbed off her bed, stretching his stiff back as he did so. He turned to look at her, position unchanged atop her plush mattress and smirked as he amended, "Granger, you might want to make sure no one is in the common room, unless you really feel like starting some scandalous rumours."

"Oh! Right!" Granger exclaimed as she sprung from the bed and headed for the door. 

He could not help but run his eyes up the length of her exposed legs and found himself entranced by the way her perfectly rounded rear bounced with each step. He realised too slow that Granger had spoken and looked up to find her starring back at him, one eyebrow arched and a knowing smile upon her lips. 

"Huh?" He uttered stupidly.

"I said the coast is clear. Get out of here." She said with a chuckle.


	17. DISPLACEMENT

Hermione paced the length of her small bedroom back and forth. She had once again been ripped from her slumber, plagued by Greybacks recurrent, horrific torment. Thankfully she had at least remembered to place a silencing charm upon her room this night, so she had not woken another with her shrieks. Her pacing slowed as she recalled how Malfoy had deftly disabled her wards to burst in and save her only the night before. She had to admit to herself that a small part of her wished she had left her room unwarded and unsilenced, so that the wizard might once again come to her rescue. But she couldn't do that, unload her issues, her trauma onto someone else. These scars were her burden to bare. It had been nice though, feeling the comfort of his embrace. She had felt safe, protected, just as she had after Fawley's attack.

Her memory conjured forth the image of his dark mark, distorted upon his pale flesh. She could not help but feel immense concern for the Slytherin wizard. Although the flesh had healed she could see the extent to which he had maimed himself reflected clearly in the twisted mark. He had so easily inflicted such great harm upon himself, risked his own life in a futile attempt to remove Voldemort’s brand from his skin. The anguish she had felt over his evident suffering had overwhelmed her and she had thrown herself against his chest, embracing him without hesitation. His chest, his very naked, very sculpted chest. She bit down on her lower lip and sighed. His body had felt so good pressed against her own, the warmth of his bare flesh against her own skin. She felt her pulse quicken and her loins begin to ache. No. She had to stop thinking about him in that way. They were friends, just friends. She knew he could never see her in such a way, so she needed to halt this fantasy of hers before it had a chance to take root. Deciding it best to leave her room and splash some cool water against her heated skin, she made for her bedroom door determined to rid her thoughts of the blonde wizard.3

Stepping out into the circular expanse of the common room she halted as her breath caught in her throat. There he was, the very thing she sought to clear her mind of. Across the room Malfoy lounged in one of the two small armchairs beneath the room’s large window. One leg casually folded atop the other and a hard leather bound book open in his lap. His alabaster skin glowed with an ethereal quality, illuminated by the single beam of moonlight that broke through the darkness. Thankfully this time at least the wizard was fully clothed. Hermione forced herself the exhale as she gathered herself. She made her way across the circular expanse and asked, "What are you doing out here?"

He looked up from his book with a smirk and arced a singular brow, "I'm reading Granger."

She threw herself down in the armchair across from his with a huff and crossed her arms as she mimicked his raised brow.

Malfoy closed his old leather book and his smirk dropped, his face turning solemn, "I'm a helpless insomniac Granger. I can hardly sleep unless I am beyond intoxicated. Unfortunately we mutually agreed we would no longer resort to such methods of self-medication. I figured if I wasn't going to sleep I might as well try and make myself useful. So I grabbed a book and came to sit within earshot of your room in case you needed me."

Hermione pulled her feet up onto the armchair and hugged her knees to her chest, "Oh! You were listening out for me?"

"I am guessing since you're out here at this hour and I didn't hear you wake, that you actually silenced your room tonight. Which means I was in fact very little help."

"You're talking to me now, which helps." She replied and offered the wizard a kind smile.

They spoke for hours about inconsequential things, everything from their favourite subject's to their most detested of foods. Hermione was glad for the distraction and surprised to find that they had more in common than her eleven year old self could have ever fathomed. So consumed by their discussion the pair did not even notice the gentle glow of sunrise encroaching upon them as it crept over the distant horizon. 

"What are you doing 'Mione?"

Hermione choked back her jovial laughter, covering her mouth with her palm and looked up to see Harry approaching, a deep frown etched into his facial features.

"Are you going to get dressed and come down to breakfast?" Harry questioned apprehensively, ignoring Malfoys presence entirely.

"And a good morning to you too Potter." Malfoy replied jestfully.

Harry's eyelids fluttered, his mouth slightly agape, clearly uncertain as to how he should respond to the strange interaction. Disregarding Malfoys remark Harry turned back to face Hermione somewhat perplexed. "Well I guess I'll see you in the Hall then."

The Gryffindor wizard turned and made his way out of the common room. Malfoy smirked as they watched the bespectacled man retreat causing Hermione to cross her arms and raise her eyebrow disapprovingly.

Malfoys smirk cracked, twisting upward into a full, genuine grin. "What? I'm playing nice!"

She could not help the reciprocal smile that spread across her own face, however she shook her head slowly from side to side. Hermione pulled herself up from her plush armchair into a standing position, stretching her muscles languidly as she did so. She looked down at Malfoy and announced, "If Harry has already left we are most certainly late for breakfast. I will see you in class."

By the time she had changed into her robes and gathered her school things Hermione concluded that she must have well and truly missed breakfast by now. Foregoing the Great Hall she set out for Transfiguration, determined not to be late for class.

Hermione crossed the threshold into the Transfiguration classroom to find only a hand full of other students had arrived, she was obviously not as late as she had first feared. She found a desk in the centre of the room, taking her seat she began to organise her parchment and quill atop the timber. As she finalised her set up she noticed Harry enter the room, Ginny clutched possessively onto to his arm. Harry brought his lips down to Ginny’s ear and whispered something unheard. The red headed witch pouted before placing a chaste kiss upon his cheek and releasing her hold of him. Ginny left Harry at the entrance, giving Hermione a sideways glance as she passed her to sit at the desk directly behind her own. Harry took a deep breath before he made his way forward to Hermione’s desk. He placed both palms down on the timber top and lent forward in an attempted casual manner. She knew her friend far too well however and could plainly see the discomfort in his stance.

"What was with this morning Hermione?" He asked quietly, his concern reflected in his creased brow.

"I don't know what you mean Harry." She replied innocently. She knew very well what he was implying, but if he had an issue with her spending time with Malfoy, he could damn well say so.

"Why were you sitting out there talking with Malfoy?" He dropped his voice at the end of his sentence, forcing out the Slytherin wizards name in a low hiss.

Hermione replied rather matter-of-factly, "We were talking Harry. That's what friends do."

'Friends!' Harry exclaimed, drawing the attention of their surrounding peers. He looked around the class at the prying faces of the all too inquisitive students, lowered his voice and amended, "Look, I don't want to talk about this right here. Will you come to dinner in Hogsmeade with us tonight?"

Hermione simply nodded her agreement and watched as Harry retreated to his own desk, the wizard shaking his head in disbelief. 

By the time her conversation with Harry had concluded most of the class had arrived. Hermione looked up just in time to see Malfoy enter the room, their eyes locking on one another. Almost instinctually he began to move towards where she sat, but as quickly as he had set out he halted, his brows pulling into a deep furrow. The Slytherin wizard changed his heading and made his way to the back of the room. She could not help but find herself ever so slighting disheartened by his action.

She did not have time to dwell on the matter however as Professor Hale promptly entered the room. The Professor swept his finely tailored robes from his shoulders, marching forward to lay the garment across the back of his chair. The wizard was immaculately dressed in neatly pressed black Muggle suit pants and a button down shirt. He wore a fitted waist coat, inlayed with the most delicate of silver thread, the thin chain of a silver pocket watch draped aesthetically from one pocket. He faced the class, his posture perfect as he began his address without so much as a greeting, "I am sure you have noticed throughout your years of tutelage that when you have been asked to transfigure an object it has always been from one state to another of relative size. There is good reason for this. The ability to change an objects size, whether that be to increase or decrease it, is a subtle art. One that has potentially disastrous consequences when executed poorly."

Hermione thought of the first time she had attempted such magic. Naively she had endeavoured to extend a simple wooden book shelf, it had exploded instantly into splinters. Much reading and extensive practice had been undertaken by her since to perfect the skill.

Professor Hale continued, "For millennia the complexity behind this branch of magic perplexed even the post scholarly of witches and wizards. In modern times however these questions have at last began to be answered by advancements in Muggle science. Do any of you here have an understanding of the science of which I speak?"

Thrilled that a Hogwarts Professor was breaching the gap between magical and Muggle knowledge Hermione’s hand shot into the air eagerly, just as it had in years past leaving her labelled as a swotty know it all.

"Miss Granger?" The Professor prompted as he inclined his head, permitting her to speak.

"Physics, Professor. In particular molecular mass and particle density."

Professor Hale cracked small smile having heard her response. However, her fellow students gaped at her as if she had spoken in tongues.

"It is good to see that you are learned in not just the magical arts Miss Granger. Fifty point to Gryffindor."

Stepping forward the Professor brandished his wand. With a series of small flicks he cleared his desk to the side and levitated a large cabinet, placing it gently down next to where he stood before continuing, "I am sure not many of you yet grasp an understanding of the concepts Miss Granger here speaks of, I hope to change that. If you could all please stand and clear the furniture to the back of the room."

Abruptly a cacophony of sound broke out as wood scraped upon stone and students began to mutter a slew of charms. When the expanse had been cleared of its furniture the students gathered around Professor Hale with curiosity.

"The spell I shall be using is by definition a charm, but as it is used to alter the state of an object it falls under the Transfiguration curriculum. Once the charm is mastered we will progress to changing both an objects size and form simultaneously. To demonstrate the use of this charm I shall be reducing this cabinet here to a size so small that it may at first appear to vanish to the naked eye." Hale turned to face the cabinet, positioning his wand.

Suddenly Ginny jeered from the back of the crowd, "Oi Malfoy, I hear you're an expert on vanishing cabinets, maybe you should show the Professor how it’s done!"

A Seventh year Gryffindor boy roared with laughter in response to Ginny’s taunt. Although the loudest, he was far from the only one of their peers to react. As a series of sniggers emanated from the group of student's Hermione’s eyes fell to Malfoy. The blonde wizard's fists balled tightly at his sides, all trace of blood vanishing from his pale fresh as his skin pulled taut across the ridges of his knuckles. He made no move to retort, staring stoically ahead at the old cabinet. If she had not become so accustomed to the subtle changes in his body language, she may not have even noticed his response to the cruel words at all.

Professor Hale cleared his throat impatiently, ceasing the last of the group’s chuckles. "If you could all please take a step back."

The students complied, stepping back and positioning themselves in a wide arc around their Professor. Hale lifted his wand and enunciated clearly, "Reducio!"

Instantaneously the cabinet appeared to vanish before their eyes and Hermione was hit by a sharp blast of air, causing her to momentarily struggle to maintain her footing. She of course had known what to expect, so despite her fleeting instability, she had remained standing. She glanced around, many of the other students had not been so lucky. She felt a small, satisfied smile grace her lips as she watched some of her peers flail against the class room floor. Many of those who had laughed at Ginny’s horrid remark only moments before now picking themselves up tenderly off the ground in shock.

"I see many of you found that to be quite unexpected." Professor Hale began, his eyes sweeping over the students clambering to their feet. "The blast that hit you all was a result of the particles that comprise the air we breathe rushing in to fill a newly formed vacuum. When the cabinet decreased rapidly by a great volume, an empty space was created. The air around us rushed in the fill that void, colliding with itself and ricocheting back outwards."

"But Sir!" Harry interjected.

Hale inclined his head, "Yes, Mr Potter?"

Harry scratched at his scalp, ruffling his hair as he spoke, "I've seen this spell used before. In my Fifth year. Professor Moody, well Moody's imposter, he used the Reducio charm on a spider. Why did this not happen then?"

"Excellent question Mr Potter and this brings me to my next point. The level of the displacement is relative to the size and volume of an object. So the spider you see would have consumed very little space, or total volume, relative to the bulk of this cabinet. The displacement is exponential, if you were to attempt to reduce, say an entire building to the size of a snitch, the resulting blast would likely be concussive if not deadly."

He paused for a moment, evidently giving his students the opportunity to present further queries, when none were spoken he continued, "Can I please have a volunteer step forward and pick up the cabinet?"

A smug Gryffindor boy stepped forward, laughing nonchalantly at the apparent ease of the task at hand. He bent down and tried to pry the miniature cabinet off the class room’s floor. He struggled in vain for a few moments before slinking off to the rear of the group in defeat.

"As you can see." The Professor began, gesturing towards the tiny timber box. "While the size of cabinet has dramatically decreased, its weight has not. As Miss Granger highlighted earlier this is in fact due to the objects molecular mass remaining constant, while the particle density has been altered. However this is an advanced topic for another lesson."

Hale directed his wand towards the minuscule piece of furniture and exclaimed, "Engorgio!"

The cabinet rapidly returned to its original dimensions. The resulting blast of air this time only knocking Neville and one other student to the ground.

"As I mentioned earlier this particular magic can be quite dangerous when executed poorly or without forethought, therefore you will not be working on anything quite as substantial as a cabinet. Please step forth and each gather a ball of yarn, by lessons end I expect you to have mastered reducing it to the size of a gobstone and back again." Professor Hale concluded as he flicked his wand, conjuring a basket of coloured yarn.

Hermione shuffled forward, reaching into the basket and collecting a ball of magenta wool. Levitating her desk and chair back to its correct location, she placed the yarn atop the timber and sat down to face it. She transfigured her ball effortlessly back and forth a dozen times. She completed the transformation hastily as the Professor had with the cabinet, but also practiced executing the transition gradually, in a far more controlled manner. Through her independent study she was aware of the significant roll speed placed on the overall displacement effect. In no time she grew bored of the incantation and her eyes began to wander. Her gaze came to rest upon the toned peaks and ridges of Malfoys upper back, he was tense, obviously still troubled by Ginny’s callous remark. She watched the blond wizard struggle for some time, unable to successfully cast the spell. Hermione knew he was capable of incredibly advanced magic, so what was stopping him now?

As the end of the period drew near even Neville had managed to reduce his uncooperative woollen ball by half its original size. Unfortunately Malfoys temporary ineptitude did not pass unnoticed by their peers, as the whispered mockery grew ever louder. Ginny, evidently unable to pass up further opportunity to spurn the Slytherin, called out, "do you have trouble getting it up as well Malfoy, or is it just your magic that is dysfunctional?"

Hermione’s eyes snapped back to the red head, a disapproving glare written plainly across her features. She found herself immensely disappointed to see Harry laughing openly at his girlfriend's cruel remark. Before she could voice her condemnation of their actions Professor Hale dismissed the class. In an instant Malfoy was up and out the door. She wanted to remain, to berate her friends for their abhorrent behaviour. There would be time for that later however, so she gathered her things and swiftly perused Malfoy out into the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys! This update is a little earlier than normal. I hope you are all doing well with the isolation we are currently experiencing. 
> 
> I am pleased to say I only have one fest commitment left at this point and then my full attention shall be returning to this WIP. I am hoping to increase my posting schedule from fortnightly to weekly if health permits, so fingers crossed you all see another update as soon as next weekend :)
> 
> Please read and review  
Love LilithShade x


	18. CONFLICT

Hermione hurried from the Transfiguration classroom and began to comb the long, portrait lined corridors for any sign of the elusive blonde wizard. It soon became evident however that the Slytherins expeditious retreat had left her searching in vain. With a defeated sigh she decided it best to make her way towards Ancient Runes, she did after all share that class with the very wizard whom she sought. She only hoped that his current emotional state would not leave him tempted to skip the lesson.

As she entered the small study hall where Ancient Runes was held the elderly Professor Babbling caught her eye and smiled kindly. She glanced across at the few studious Seventh years who sat hunched over their text books, Malfoy clearly not amongst them. With a sigh she made her way to her seat and collapsed onto the stool feeling dismayed. At least Harry and the others did not take this subject, she could not stand to face them at this time, her anger too fresh. She was beyond furious with Ginny and immensely disappointed in Harry. He had told her he would try to be civil, from where she sat his current behaviour was far from. She would have the opportunity to speak to them tonight, for now she needed to make an attempt to focus on her studies, this was her NEWT year after all.

Professor Babbling cleared her throat and spoke softly, "alright my dears, I have some scrolls for you to translate today. These scripts are a few centuries old so please do ensure you do use your gloves. We only have access to three scrolls so I will need you all to pair up now."

Hermione looked around and saw she once again appeared to be the fifth wheel, the outliner inevitably forced into isolation.

"Oh Mr Malfoy. How nice of you to join us at last." Babbling announced, Hermione’s eyes snapping up to meet Malfoys steel blue.

Malfoy inclined his head to the petite old witch. "I apologise for my tardiness Professor."

Babbling smiled broadly up at the Slytherin. "No harm done my boy, we have yet to begin. If you could please pair up with Miss Granger for today’s task."

Hermione tidied her quill and parchment and placed her delicate cloth gloves on the desk top before clearing her satchel away to make room for the approaching wizard.

"Sorry I am late." Malfoy spoke softly.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to come at all." Hermione replied.

"I needed a moment to collect myself."

She offered him a swift, apologetic smile. "I am so sorry for Ginny's behaviour."

"It's not your fault Granger. Besides, it's not as if I've never done anything to deserve such treatment." He said with a shrug.

"That is in the past. It's not who you are anymore. I wish the others could just see that." Hermione pouted.

Malfoy smirked at her immature expression but did not respond, instead pulling on his own pair of cotton gloves and carefully unfurling the ancient scroll. Hermione could not pull her eyes away from the wizard as he began to effortlessly decipher one Rune after the next. He translated the ancient symbols without so much as glancing at his copy of Spellman's Syllabary. She had never seen someone so efficient in the subject, save perhaps the professor and herself.

She watched him scratch his quill tip across the parchment, the muscles in his forearm flexing with each subtle bend of the wrist. Gnawing at her lower lip she was suddenly hit with the revelation that she found the wizard by her side immensely attractive. Not just physically, she had accepted that, she could handle that. But just now, she had realised it was more than that, she felt a pull on a deeper level, an intellectual attraction. That terrified her.

Hermione stood before the looming facade of The Three Broomsticks. She drew in a deep calming breath, steadying herself before she reached out to grasp the Inns door handle. The impending encounter had plagued her thoughts all day. She had even briefly considered forgoing the dinner, stalling the inevitable conflict. In the end she had decided against hiding away however, determined that confronting her friend’s appalling behaviour was indeed the correct course of action.

Prying the large timber door open, Hermione lifted her chin confidently, pulled her shoulders back, correcting her posture and crossed the threshold. Her eyes scanned the rooms many patrons and fell upon Neville and Luna sat across from one another in a large booth on the Inns far side. The pair appeared to be lost in their own small world, whispered words and gentle caresses. The pair’s intimacy and the absence of their other friends gave Hermione momentary pause. Perhaps the group dinner had been cancelled and the others had simply neglected to owl her. She shook her head, discarding the errant thought and set out towards the couple.

As she approached the booth Luna's gaze met her own and the witches face spread into a beaming smile. The Ravenclaw shuffled her way down the bench to make room as she spoke, "Hermione! I am so glad you could make it. It seems like Harry and Ginny are running a little late, I do hope the Blibbering Hummdinger's haven’t got to them."

Hermione suppressed her desire to question Luna's remark and instead simply smiled politely at the Ravenclaw’s ludicrous claim as she took the offered seat by her side.

Hermione looked across at Neville, truly looked at him. She had not seen her friend so relaxed in, well, ever. "How have you both been? It feels like it has been an age since we last spoke."

"Things have been amazing 'Mione." Neville gushed as he reached out to grasp his girlfriend's hand across the tabletop. She watched as he absently traced small, gentle circles into the palm of her hand with his thumb. She was happy for her friends, happy that they had at last found peace after the war. That they had found each other. Despite the earnest joy she felt for them she could not suppress the smallest pang of jealousy that crept in and settled in the pit of her stomach.

As she sat and listened to Luna and Neville recount their various escapades, she became intrigued by their private glances and intuitive touches. The more she observed their undeniable bond, all the more that small seed of jealousy began to fester, to grow.

From the corner of her eye Hermione caught a glimpse of fiery red hair. Turning her head she spotted Ginny clutched to Harry's side, the pair laughing at some private joke as they made their way towards the booth. Evidently preoccupied in their own company the pair made their way to the booths edge before their collective gaze fell upon Hermione’s form.

Ginny's face fell flat in an instant, "Oh. I didn't think you were actually going to come." She spat with no attempt to conceal her contempt.

Harry's brow furrowed at the callous tone in which his girlfriend had spoken to Hermione, yet he did come to his friend's defence. Hermione frowned as she watched her so called best friend gently guide Ginny into the free seat by Neville's side. Once the witch was seated comfortably he placed a small peck on her cheek and turned to summon a wooden stool with a swift Accio. Harry positioned the old stool at the head of the table and sat himself down equidistant between Hermione and his girlfriend.

Harry ruffled his hair, evidently uncomfortable wedged between the two clearly furious witches as they glared at one another in silence. He cleared his throat, shattering the strained quiet. Calling the attention of the bar maid he ordered the table a round of Butterbeer’s.

With food and drink now flowing freely Hermione sat with her eyes adamantly fixated upon her dinner plate. Absently she shuffled an errant pea across its smooth surface as she listened to Luna and Neville try once again to stimulate conversation within their small gathering. Despite the pair’s jovial attitude and continual efforts towards inclusion the tension had yet to dissipate.

Ginny clearly unable to hold her tongue any longer slammed her fist down on the table, cutting Luna off mid regale and demanded, "What the fuck is going on with you and the snake?"

Without so much as raising her gaze from her dinner plate Hermione replied, "I don't really appreciate the attitude Ginevra."

Having been called by her birth name Ginny’s face flared an aggressive shade of red, one that rivalled even that of her hair.

Harry, all too eager to defend his enraged girlfriend, remarked, "Seriously Hermione you can't actually consider the bloody bastard a friend?"

Hermione sighed, dropping her fork to clutter against the crockery and rubbed at her temples in unison. "He isn't the same person he was before the war." She replied exasperatedly.

Luna's calm voice chimed in, "It is true. I have noticed the shift in his aura."

Taking whatever small slither of backup she could get, Hermione lifted her eyes, peering into Harry's green orbs with conviction, "I know you have seen the change in him too Harry, even if you cannot yet acknowledge it. You told me you would give him a chance and up until you supported Ginny’s appalling remarks in Transfiguration today I actually believed you were trying."

"My remarks? Appalling?" Ginny laughed humourlessly before continuing, "what about everything he has said to us? Done to us?"

"What you said was pretty uncalled for Gin." Neville supplied sheepishly.

Ginny turned her infuriated glare towards the wizard and he visually recoiled. Hermione rose her voice, pulling the enraged witch's attention back to her as she spoke, "even if Malfoy was the same as he had been in the past, which if you stopped and bothered to bloody notice, he isn't! Even then, your behaviour would be abysmal. You are the one being the bully now!"

As the pair of Gryffindor witches tossed harsh words back and forth, Hermione could not help but notice that Harry remained seated in silence, mouth slightly agape as his eyes darted panic stricken between the pair.

Growing frustrated by his impartial stance Hermione turned her growing fury upon him. "I know you have noticed the change in him Harry. You just don't want to say a word against Ginny!"

Ginny’s eyes narrowed instantly as her lip curled back baring her gritted teeth, "Leave my man out of this!"

"You do not own him Ginny!" Hermione snapped. "And you!" She exclaimed prodding her finger into Harry’s chest causing him to wince, "stand up for yourself once in a while, stand up for your so called friends. Or have you forgotten how to do that?"

Having reached her limit Hermione felt the now all too familiar sensation of her hairs standing on end as her magic began to crackle against the surface of her skin. She stood abruptly and turned her back on the group before hastily retreating from the booth in great strides.

"What can I get for you dear?"

Perplexed by the question, Hermione responds absently, "Huh?"

"I asked what I could get for you."

She looked up and suddenly realised she had instinctively made her way over to stand before the bar, Madame Rosmerta evidently awaiting her drink order. Rage still pulsing through her veins and her magic threatening to break loose, she yearned for the numbing release of the Firewhisky. However she recalled the words Malfoy had spoken only a short time ago, they had mutually agreed to no longer resort to such methods of self-medication.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled before turning on the spot and fleeing to The Three Broomsticks exit.

The cool night air washed over her skin and she forced herself to inhale a deep and shaky breath. With the chaotic sounds of the Hogsmeade nightlife now muffled behind stone walls, Hermione soaked in the calming nature of the quietude.

Slowly Hermione regained a slither of control over her emotional state, her magic receding within and the tension of her muscles abating. She conjured into her mind’s eye the image of the Hogwarts grounds gates and spun on the spot with determination and deliberation.

As she made her way towards the Astronomy Tower Hermione’s thoughts drifted from dinner and the argument with her friends, to the cause of that very quarrel, Malfoy. She recalled how his magic had faltered in class that evening as well as the times she had noted its happenstance previously and she found herself immensely curious.

By the time she reached the portrait of Lady Clair De Lune her thoughts were for none but the Slytherin wizard. She crossed the threshold into the Eighth year common room somewhat eagerly, her eyes sweeping the circular expanse in search of his distinctive platinum locks. Finding no sign of whom she sought her shoulders slumped, a sense of disappointment washing over her. Eyes down cast, she turned towards her bedroom door and shuffled forward sullenly.

Half way to her own door she paused and inhaled a determined breath, lifting her head high and pulling her shoulders back she swivelled on the spot to face the door the furthest to the left. Exhaling a short huff of air, followed by a sharp nod, she marched forward with conviction. The moment she reached his bedroom door she reached up and rapt her knuckles against the timber hastily, giving herself no chance to lose her nerve.

The door opened and immediately it felt as if all breath had been ripped from Hermione’s chest. There he stood, once again topless, wearing naught but his exceedingly low hanging cotton pyjama pants.

Malfoy raised a curious eyebrow and lifted his arm to lean casually against his doorframe. With a smirk he enquired as to her presence, "Hi?"

Hermione, having been caught off guard by the sight of his exposed torso realised she had neglected to speak for far too long and stuttered, "Oh... Uh... Do you mind if... if I c-come in?"

The wizard chuckled in response to her anxious request but none the less opened his door fully, allowing her room to enter as he replied, "sure, why not."

She accepted his invitation, quickly darting past his tantalising form and into the room. Her eyes explored her surroundings, the room not too dissimilar from her own. His furniture was positioned in parallel to that in her own wedge shaped room. However the Slytherin had transfigured his furnishings into much darker, yet elegant forms. She could not help but note his substantial book collection, one that perhaps rivalled even her own. She was impressed. Not knowing what to do or say, she remained standing awkwardly on the spot and began to gnaw at her lower lip anxiously.

"Sit down Granger, I'm not going to bite." Malfoy announced as he closed the bedroom door and walked over to his closet and picked out a black long sleeved shirt. Hermione surveyed the muscles in his back stretch and flex as he pulled the piece of clothing onto his body. Feeling relieved, yet somewhat disappointed that he had hidden his immensely distracting torso from sight, she swallowed nervously before exhaling a short puff of air.

He walked passed her, taking a seat languidly atop his own bed, the linen strewn aside as if he had not long vacated the covers, and gestured for her to do the same. Hermione made her way the bed and perched herself awkwardly on its edge.

"How was Hogsmeade?" Malfoy enquired.

His question caught her off guard, her posture relaxing marginally as she turned to face him "Oh, I didn't realise you knew I was heading in tonight."

"It's a bit of a survival instinct of mine I guess, to know what's going on around me. I am incredibly observant."

She considered his words for a moment and she realised it made perfect sense that the wizard had developed such a passive awareness through necessity. How should she answer his question, she asked herself. Briefly she considered lying, telling him the night with her friends had been perfect. However, she quickly dismissed the notion, something within her now abhorred the idea of being dishonest with him. Especially after all they had shared. "I had a fight with my friends, well Ginny mostly."

"About me I'm guessing?" Malfoy correctly assumed.

Hermione looked down at her hands and began to fidget anxiously. "I wish they could just see that you're different now."

She looked up at him apologetically, not knowing how to fully express condemnation of not only her friends, but also peers and professors unjust treatment of the Slytherin seated before her.

Malfoy shrugged and a small sad smile graced his lips. "I don’t mind too much. I was an arse after all. I'm just glad you don't see me in that light anymore."

Hermione offered a small timid smile in response. When she looked at him the man she saw truly was no longer the bigoted bully of times past. Her opinion of him had changed so drastically in such a short time, yet she no longer harboured a single doubt that his change, his desire to be a better person, was indeed sincere.

"I wanted to ask you something." Malfoy announced, pulling her from her thoughts.

Her brows pulled together as she looked to him once more "Oh?"

"What is a molecule?" He asked, confusion etched into his features.

Hermione could not help but laugh. How was she meant to explain Muggle science to a Pureblood wizard, one in particular who was brought up to think the rest of humanity were still living akin to the stone ages?

"Well everything is made up of minuscule little bits." She began to explain poorly, Malfoy's evident confusion not abating in the slightest.

She considered for a moment and tried again to explain. "Water, you see, is not just water, it is a compound made up of hydrogen and oxygen."

Malfoy simply blinked slowly, his mouth agape and eyebrows drawn in. Hermione rubbed at her face before conceding, "Muggle science and technology has come a very long way in the last few hundred years. I could lend you some books that explain this more thoroughly if you are interested."

Malfoy smiled at her offer, "I find it immensely infuriating that there is an entire wealth of knowledge that has been kept from me my entire life. So yes Granger, I would very much like that. Thank you."

"I actually came here to ask you something as well." Hermione disclosed, her gaze dropping from his as her nerves peaked.

"Yeah, what would that be?" He said with a smirk.

"I was watching you in Transfiguration today. I saw your magic falter. That's not the first time I've seen it happen either. Do you know why it's happening?"

His face morphed and his posture slumped, no longer exuding the confidence of the moment before. "I have no fucking clue."

"Has.... has it always been an issue for you?" She asked apprehensively

He forced out an exaggerated, humourless laugh, "No. Just another fantastic bloody consequence of the war. Ever since I got this bloody wand I have been having difficulties."

"Would you mind if I had a look at your wand?" She asked as she turned to face him fully, crossing her legs before her on the bed as her curiosity quashed her nerves.

He arced an eyebrow but obliged her, reaching behind him and under his silken emerald green pillow. It occurred to Hermione that she obviously wasn't the only survivor of the war who had taken to concealing it there in their sleep. Malfoy handed her the wand without hesitation, not every witch or wizard would hand over their wand to another so freely. It crossed her mind briefly that perhaps Malfoy actually trusted her.

She turned the wand over in her palm, she recognized the material. "Hazel wood?"

The blond looked a little impressed by her swift identification, "Yes. Hazel wood, eleven inches, unicorn."

A thought tugged at the edges of her memory, just out of reach. She knew she had read something about this particular wand wood, yet frustratingly she could not fully grasp the thought.

She looked up at Malfoy determinedly, "we need to go to the Library!"

"Right now?" He questioned in disbelief.

She attempted to mimic his own signature smirk and teased, "What? Worried about being caught out after curfew?"

"Well considering my probationary conditions, yes actually."

The smirk dropped from her face, "Oh. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot."

"That I was on probation?" He chuckled.

She fidgeted with his wand for a moment, twisting it in the palm of her hand while she considered the situation, "I promise we won't get caught. I'm quite good at sneaking around this castle actually."

He climbed from the bed without any further hesitation and headed for the bedroom door. "Come on then. I hope you're as good as you say though. If I breach my probationary conditions they will send me to Azkaban for three years."

Hermione jumped to her feet and exclaimed, "three years?"

Malfoy looked down and sighed, "Quite a few of the Wizengamot would love nothing more than to make an example of me to other youth whom might wander astray."

He looked back up at her, his composure back in place, "shall we go then?" He opened his door a fraction and peaked out into the common room, obviously deciding the way was clear he left the room. Hermione followed after him, his wand still clutched in her grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly updates YAY! Hopefully I can keep up with this schedule as I would love to interact with all you lovely readers more frequently. 
> 
> So we finally have some confrontation between Hermione, Ginny and Harry! Not to mention a little bit more of Hermione admitting to herself the depth of her attraction towards our blonde Slytherin. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the chapter.
> 
> Love LilithShade x


	19. HAZELWOOD

Malfoy crossed the circular expanse of the Eighth year common room in large, effortless strides. Hermione hastened her step to catch the blonde as he approached the portrait hole. She reached out placing her hand upon his forearm to halt his exit. Even through the cloth of his shirt she felt the warmth of his flesh against her palm, the sensation caused her breath the hitch in her throat. Swiftly she retracted her hand, balling it into a fist against her chest protectively. She witnessed an obscure emotion flash across Malfoys facial features before his face returned to its usual, indifferent mask. How she wished she could identify that fleeting expression, ponder its meaning. But she had already tarried too long in this moment.

She cleared her throat. "You should have your wand, just in case."

Extending her arm, she turned her palm skyward as she offered the wizard his hazelwood wand clutched loosely in her grasp.

He reached for it at an agonisingly slow pace, his quicksilver eyes locked with her own. Hermione felt tension coiling within her, threatening to breach the surface of her composure. She inhaled sharply, holding the air within her lungs tentatively. As he grasped his wand the pad of his thumb caressed the soft skin of her upturned palm briefly. She observed the Slytherins pupils dilate by an increment and the blue hue of his iris deepen subtly in response to their contact. A shuddered breath escaped her parted lips.

Malfoy secured his grip on his hazelwood wand and withdrew his hand from hers. As the warmth of his flesh left her skin it was as if the world around her returned to focus. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and squared her shoulders.

"Follow me. Stay close." She announced as she brushed past him and crossed the threshold into the dimly lit hallway.

Withdrawing her own wand Hermione cast a nonverbal Lumos, illuminating the stretch of corridor before them. The castle was silent at this hour, the rhythmic thud of the pairs footfalls the only audible noise to disturb the slumbering quietude.

An abrupt explosive commotion assaulted Hermione’s ear drums, her movement coming to a swift halt. Shit, Peeves. Malfoy too had frozen behind her, swearing coarsely under his breath. She hushed him, reaching out to grab his hand without consciously deciding to do so. Turning, she tugged him away from the encroaching racket and back down the way they had came. Their frantic steps gained pace as the destructive sounds of the poltergeist grew ever nearer.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks, dropping Malfoys hand from her grasp she turned on her heel to face him. She glanced at the tall portrait over his shoulder briefly before her eyes returned to focus on his face. A small crease of the porcelain skin between the wizard’s brows was the only indication of his concern. Hermione knew now however that for there to be a single crack in his perfect mask the Slytherin must truly be alarmed.

Placing her open palms against the firmness of his sculpted chest she threw her weight against him. Evidently shocked by the advance Malfoy stumbled backwards, Hermione tumbling after him. However Malfoys back did not meet with solid wall, instead the pair slipped through the illusion that was the paintings facade.

The enclosed space behind the portrait was incredibly narrow, no bigger than a broom closet. Hermione wedged herself against him to ensure no part of her body was visible through the barrier. Immediately she became distinctly aware of her soft breasts pressed firmly against his chest and the feel of his chiselled abdomen against the slight swell of her stomach.

"What the..." Malfoy started.

Hermione swiftly silenced him, cupping her hand over his mouth. Peeves was directly outside the portrait now. She held her breath anxiously, unwilling to move a single muscle lest risk their discovery. Gradually the poltergeists calamity subsided into the distance and she allowed her body to relax. She let her hand slip from Malfoys mouth and slide south to rest against his chest. Exhaling a relieved breath, her forehead fell forward to rest against his shoulder.

"How did you know about this place?" Malfoy whispered.

"I told you, I'm actually quite good at this sneaking around the castle business." She mumbled into his shirt before lifting her head off his shoulder to glance up at him.

His pupils were blown wide, naught but a small sliver of molten silver encapsulating them. Feeling his hot breath upon her lips with each rise and fall of his chest against her own, it dawned on her suddenly their proximity.

Hermione felt a scarlet blush tinge her flesh and she averted her eyes from his. Turning her head to the side she announced. "We should get going now."

She poked her head out to ensure the coast was clear and stepped out from their hide away. For the most part she relished the renewed distance between herself and the Slytherin, yet she could not fully silence the flickering ember of desire that longed once more for his touch.

They arrived before the entry of the Library without further interruption. Her eyes traced the intricate patterns carved into the closed ancient door before she lowered her wand, angling it towards where timber met stone. Hermione cast a swift Muffliato knowing from experience the fickle things tendency to screech when nudged ajar.

She forced the door silently open just enough to facilitate their entry. Once Malfoy had slipped into the room behind her she swiftly closed the ornate door and dispelled her silencing charm. It simply would not do to have someone stumble upon their afterhours activities, the door would act as an alarm of sorts.

Spinning on her heal wordlessly she set out towards the depths of the Library. She knew each nook and cranny of the labyrinth before her intimately, scarcely requiring the dim lighting of her Lumos. Arriving at the selection of shelving she had sought Hermione turned down the aisle, Malfoy trailing closely by her heels. Her finger tips traced over the leather spines of the assorted volumes lovingly as she made her way down the tome lined passage.

"What are we looking for?" Malfoy queried with a hissed whisper.

"I found it!" She declared, pulling an age worn book bound in dry, cracked leather from the shelf. She pried the text open tenderly before she began to flip through its pages with deft, practiced hands. Her eyes darted from side to side rapidly as she scanned the ink scrawled sentences.

Her eyes falling on the very page she had hoped to discover she smiled triumphantly. Straightening her spine a degree she swivelled to face Malfoy and read aloud, "A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment, because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. The positive aspect of a hazel wand more than makes up for such minor discomforts, however, for it is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skillful, and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ (which is to say, it expels all its magic and refuses to perform, often necessitating the extraction of the core and its insertion into another casing, if the wand is still required) at the end of its master’s life (if the core is unicorn hair, however, there is no hope; the wand will almost certainly have ‘died’)."

"Reflects my emotional state? Works best for those who can manage their own feelings? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Draco exclaimed angrily, throwing his hands into the air in an exasperated manner.

Hermione could pinpoint exactly the cause of his sporadic magical ineptitude in an instant. He was repressing his true emotions, pilling them behind walls built long ago. How was she supposed to even begin to help him overcome such a substantial obstacle?

"At what age did you first start utilising Occulmency?" She queried thoughtfully.

Malfoy tilted his head to the side and arced a single eyebrow inquisitively as if to challenge her questions relevance before responding. "I studied under Bellatrix the summer before Sixth year."

Flinching at the mere mention of the deranged witch Hermione’s fingertips ghosted over the branded flesh of her inner forearm. Malfoys brows knitted together into a concerned furrow as his eyes traced the path of her roaming digits. Hermione caught his eye just in time to observe a distinct flicker of regret flash across his face, before he schooled his features once more.

Dropping her arm to fall loosely by her side she squashed the rancid memory down into naught but a shadow hanging by the fringes of mind. This was about his issues, not her own.

"I do not mean when you were formally trained in Occulmency Malfoy. I am asking you..." She paused, inhaling deeply, overcome with a wave of sympathy for the Slytherin wizard. "I am asking you at what age did you start forcing your emotions behind mental walls."

Malfoy simply starred at her, blinking slowly as if struggling to comprehend her words.

The realisation struck her suddenly and she was near overcome with melancholy for the blonde before her. His behaviour was so ingrained he did not even view it as abnormal.

"You are allowed to have emotions Malfoy, it isn't normal to keep forcing them back into the depths of your psyche unresolved."

Malfoy looked defensive, "I have emotions."

"Really?" Hermione challenged as she folded her arms across her chest.

"When was the last time you allowed yourself to feel something that was neither angst nor despair?"

Malfoy was silent for some time before his shoulders slumped in defeat, clearly unable to muster a credible rebuttal.

Hermione pressed the matter further. "So, tell me the truth. When was the last time you allowed yourself to fully embrace an emotional response?"

Unable to hold her gaze Malfoy mumbled his confession. "Seven."

Hermione inhaled sharply. Seven. Such a young age. Far too tender an age for one to dissociate. She doubted if Malfoy even knew how to acknowledge his own emotional responses at this point, or if the suppression had become too far an entrenched response.

"You need to let yourself experience emotions Malfoy. You can't keep bottling them away. You saw what the book said, if you can't learn to understand and manage your feelings then your magic will be hindered."

"I can't..." Malfoy growled through gritted teeth.

"You have to acknowledge these emotions."

His tone guttural as the strangled words escaped his throat. "If I release this rage I have kept caged Granger, I will hurt someone."

She spoke from a place of unwavering certainty. "You won't."

"You don't know that!" He spat.

Hermione reached out tentatively and placed her palm upon his rigid upper arm, a gesture of comfort and support. "I do know that, because I have seen a glimpse of who you are behind that mask. You are a good person Malfoy, let me help you."

Malfoy's eyes locked with her own and she could have sworn she saw something within them. Something that resembled longing. As swiftly as the fleeting emotion came, it was gone. His silver orbs once again dull and indifferent he shrugged his shoulder violently. His jagged movement caused her hand to fall away from him as he announced flatly, "no one can help me."

He turned abruptly and retreated down the aisle in large, solemn strides. Suddenly she was alone. All alone in the dark solitude of the vast Hogwarts Library. She clutched her hand to her chest, feeling the lingering warmth their brief contact dissipate.

With a quick shake of her head to clear her thoughts Hermione turned on her heel and raced down the aisle in pursuit of the fleeing wizard. Departing the library she tried in vain to locate him in the halls, but the blasted Slytherin was swift. Hoping he had chosen to return to their quarters rather than recklessly wander the castle post curfew, Hermione too decided to retreat to the Astronomy Tower. With practiced footfalls her body guided her silently back to the Eighth year common room, her thoughts for not but Malfoy. He was damaged, that was clear. Damaged just like her.

As the portrait of Lady Clair De Lune swung aside she stepped over the threshold to find the large common room barren, not a soul present. Unable to banish the blonde from her thoughts she crossed the room to stand before his closed door. She brought her fist up as if to knock but her hand froze, her knuckles falling short of contact with the plaque that displayed his engrave name. Confidence faltering she dropped her fist to her side. Sometimes she wondered if she would have been sorted into Slytherin if it had not been for the houses deep seeded blood prejudices. Her sense of self-preservation ultimately overriding her Gryffindor courage she decided it best to let the sleeping Hippogriff lie. At least for now.

Turning her back on his room with the hope that he truly had found his way back to his own quarters she made her way over to the common rooms small kitchenette. She set about making herself a hot chocolate, replicating as much of the methodical process without magic as Hogwarts would allow. As she swirling the teaspoon through the dark liquid she recalled how her mother had always told her that hot chocolate soothed the soul.

Carefully selecting a plush seat before the fireplace that placed Malfoys door out of her sight, she sat alone in the dark cooling her mug of steaming liquid with soft little puffs. Her thoughts returned to her mother. Dear Merlin she missed her parents. A tear escaped beneath her lashes, yet she made no effort to wipe the salty drop from her skin. A second tear fell to join the first and Hermione allowed the emotions to ripple through her. She cried in earnest, cried until her tears ran dry and the soft hues of impending day break danced across the circular expanse of the Eighth year common room.

The abrupt sound of the portrait creaking open ripped through the silence of the room and Hermione startled, jumping and spilling the remains of her now cool beverage across her lap.

"Shit Granger! Are you ok? I didn't mean to frighten you!" Anthony Goldstein called out.

He raced across to where she perched atop the couch and started to move his hands frantically as if to assess if she had been scolded. Flinching away, she recoiled from his impending touch as a tight knot pulled in her stomach at the thought of his contact. She calmed herself, recalling that he was no threat and willed herself to address his concerns before the moment grew notably awkward.

"I’m ok Anthony. Really. The drink had gone cold." She traced her wand in anti-clockwise motion above her thighs, vanishing the liquid.

It occurred to her taking in the warm tones of sunlight that kissed his skin that it was early morning now. Curiosity overcame her and she could not help but wonder where the Ravenclaw had been sneaking back from at such an hour.

A smirk pulled at the corner of her lip and her brow arched in query, "Where have you been? Sneaking off in the night to see someone special are we?"

As Anthony's face fell it became apparent to Hermione that she had indeed misread the situation at hand.

"Not exactly." He confessed, his eyes dropping from her face.

Sensing his distress Hermione pressed, "What's wrong Anthony? I know we have never been particularly close, but I want you to know you can talk to me."

The wizard remained silent for some long moments and Hermione could see him gnaw at the inside of his cheek anxiously. At last deciding to confide in her some detail he whispered softly, "I have been sleepwalking."

Hermione being a Gryffindor had not shared living quarters with the Ravenclaw before this year. She wondered if this was an affliction he suffered from childhood, knowing it to be not all too uncommon. However sleep walking was dangerous at the best of times, let alone in a magical castle with staircases that moved no less.

"Has this been something that has troubled you since childhood?"

Anthony shook his head from side to side in a slow lament, before he began to speak in a sombre tone. "It only began once I returned here, back to this place. I thought I could handle returning Hermione. I need to achieve my NEWTs, I know you of all people will understand that. But I clearly underestimated how much returning to Hogwarts would affect me.

I often wake to find myself in the corridors with no recollection of how I arrived there. The corridors are not so bad, not really. It is when I awake to find myself alone in the dark in those other places that it affects me so. Twice now I have awoken in the dungeons, for a moment I don't know where I am. Unable to see my surroundings and my sense of smell overcome with the suffocating damp. Tonight I woke on the grounds. I try to avoid them you know, the open spaces outside."

She knew he was not the only one to avoid the open grounds. There were those like herself who had taken place in the Battle of Hogwarts. Those that remembered all too well the chaos and slaughter that had taken place, the blood of the fallen that had seeped into the now green grass. Others avoided the open expanses purely to keep the sense of an anxiety and vulnerability it brought at bay.

It was clear that Anthony’s night wanderings were just another in the countless repercussions of war. For a time they spoke of his harrowing experiences at Hogwarts the year past, a tale now all too consistent amongst her peers. He spoke of his time hiding away in the Room of Requirement after being on the receiving end of a Cruciatus at the hands of one of the twisted Carrows.

They spoke until there were simply no words left to truly express the ongoing torment that haunted their minds. So many of their generation had suffered the consequences of war. The toll taken on their psyche too great, and their care in the wake of such tragedy near non-existent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The wand wood description used in this chapter was written by J.K. Rowling and published on Pottermore on August 10th 2015.


	20. EXPOSED

Dipping her quill into the ink pot once more Hermione traced over the set of runic symbols before scrawling the perfect translation against her unfurled parchment. She had hoped the homework would busy her mind, distract her from her overwhelming thoughts. But alas the Ancient Runes homework proved little diversion, the simple translations using a minute fraction of her cognitive prowess. Despite her best efforts her mind had been free to contemplate events of days past.

More than a day had gone by since she had lay eyes upon the blond who scarcely left her thoughts, having not seen him the entirety of the Saturday. Concern gripped her for the Slytherin, had what she said in the Library been too much? Too soon? It was clear to her now that Malfoy was a natural Occlumens, whether he was fully aware of that fact himself was unclear. After so many years of segregating varied emotional responses and hiding them behind fortified mental walls, Hermione was concerned that he had developed some sort of dissociative disorder. To further understand the issue she would need to conduct some research into both magical and Muggle medical texts alike.

Then there was Harry. The smouldering ember of her rage ignited within her and her magic crackled against the surface of her skin as her thoughts turned to her best friend and his ginger girlfriend. Ginny was clearly out of line. The brazen and hatefully statements she had made since their return to Hogwarts were prejudiced and uncalled for. She had never been particularly fond of the youngest Weasley, but now feared their relationship beyond salvage. For years she had tried to be amicable towards the girl, if not at least civil for Harry's sake. However she was now as they say, at the end of her rope.

Harry however was another matter. Despite their disagreements from time to time, he was her best friend. Not just her best friend, but the closest thing she had left to family. Although she did not regret a single word she has said to the bespectacled wizard on Friday night, she was uneasy with how things were left between them.

A low grumble emanated from beneath her rib cage causing her brows to knit. Just how long had she immersed herself in her studies? Placing her quill down atop her study desk, she withdrew her wand and cast a swift charm. The visage of a clock face appeared before her mid-air and Hermione gasped. Not only had she missed breakfast, it was now nearing noon. It was no wonder she found herself hungry.

Deciding to tackle two issues at once Hermione unfurled a fresh piece of parchment and grasped her quill. She paused thoughtfully for a moment before dipping the point of her feather quill into the depths of the ink pot and scrawling a brief note to request Harry meet her at The Three Broomsticks for a spot of lunch.

Gathering her things, Hermione charmed her hair up into a manageable tangle of a bun and pulled on a comfortable pair of Muggle jeans before sheathing her wand in its holster. Collecting the scroll of parchment addressed to Harry she set out from her bedroom. She could not help but find her attention drawn to Malfoys door as she crossed the expanse of their shared common room.

Descending the Astronomy Tower she made her way across the castle to the west and climbed the wind worn stone steps of the Owlery. Finding one of the schools tawny owls perched nearby, she crossed the small distance to stand before it. The bird swivelled its head to lock eyes with her, blinking in a knowing fashion before extending one of its legs. With care Hermione fixed the tightly wound scroll to the proffered appendage.

"Please deliver this note to Harry Potter." She requested.

Stepping backward she allowed the creature the room to extend its wings. The owl took flight through one of the Owlery’s many windows, Hermione remaining still for a moment to watch it retreat into the distance.

Deciding there was no need to wait for Harry’s response she left the Owlery. As she approached the gates and crossed the boundary line she felt the schools wards wash over her. Choosing to forego Apparition and take the time to clear her thoughts, she pulled her coat tight around her form and set off towards Hogsmeade on foot.

As she opened the door of The Three Broomsticks warmth from the Inns hearth kissed her cool skin and she released a satisfied sigh. She could have easily elected to utilise warming charms for the duration of her walk, but she found some comfort in the childhood familiarity of simple temperature variation.

A low hum of conversation emanated from the Inns sparsely situated patrons. The majority of the sleepy village’s residents evidently remaining indoors for a lazy Sunday. With so few scattered across the tavern Hermione swiftly caught sight of Harry’s dishevelled mop of hair. A relieved sigh escaped her as she noted he sat alone in the window booth. She wanted desperately to speak with her best friend, his feisty red headed shadow not so much.

As she seated herself on the bench seat across from him, he smiled up at her sheepishly.

"Hi." He greeted, his green eyes bright and welcoming beneath the round rims of his spectacles.

Returning his timid smile Hermione replied, "Thanks for meeting me here Harry."

"It's no trouble really. Ginny and I were already spending the weekend here." Harry ran his hand through his course hair somewhat anxiously as his glance flickered upward to the unseen rooms above.

Madam Rosmerta arrived and took their lunch order, the presence of her younger staff clearly inessential on such a quiet day. The pair of them sat in silence for some time shuffling their food around their respective plates as they averted their gaze from one another. There was so much Hermione wished to say, but she knew not where to begin.

"I'm Sorry." Harry confessed suddenly, his fork falling to clatter against his plate.

Hermione's brows shot upward her eyes growing round. She had not expected an apology to be so forthright and in all honestly the admission of regret left her taken aback.

As her silence stretched onward Harry elaborated, "I haven’t been a good friend to you recently."

Hermione felt a tense knot in her stomach loosen as an apprehensive smile turned the corners of her lips upward.

Reaching forward Harry placed his own hand atop hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I have been so caught up in my own life I hadn't even realised how alone you have been."

A sense of elation washed over her. At last her best friend had noticed, had acknowledged the isolation she had felt for some time now.

Words formed on the tip of her tongue to express just how comforted she was by Harry's acknowledgement of her feelings. Before she spoke a melancholy look gripped Harry's features. "I didn't see how desperate you had become for companionship. But him Hermione? Why him?"

The momentary elation she had felt shattered like glass, the shards ripping through her as they settled in the pit of her stomach. She tore her hand from beneath his and crossed her arms across your chest.

"I am not desperate!" She hissed, drawing the attention of the nearby patrons.

"I... uh... I didn't mean it like th-that." Harry stammered defensively as he recoiled from her evident wrath.

"He has been kind to me these last few weeks Harry, not that you have been around to notice. He has been a better friend to me of late than you by far!"

Harry's mouth opened and closed, obviously unsure how to best respond.

Hermione's arms fell and she shook her head slowly from side to side. "I love you like a brother Harry. You are my family. But you cannot continue to let old grievances dictate how you see people after the war. You certainly cannot let them dictate whom I choose to associate with!"

Slapping her palms down upon the tabletop, she rose from her seat. Glaring down her nose at Harry she reached into her coat pocket. Tossing a Galleon and a few Sickles onto the table to cover the cost of her mostly uneaten meal, she turned and left without the utterance of another word.

Upon crossing The Three Broomsticks threshold into the crisp afternoon air she Apparated immediately back to the Hogwarts gates. Positively fuming she felt her magic crackling in the air around her, her wild hair breaking free of her haphazardly constructed bun. As she neared the castle at pace she pondered if perhaps a bath would help her calm her rampant emotions before her magic had the chance to coalesce.

Approaching the portrait near the top of the Astronomy Tower her rage had yet to subside, the air around her immediate person had begun to spark as fragments of her magic escaped her control. The pale maiden who stood guard of the common room startled at the unhinged appearance of the Gryffindor witch before swinging forth with haste. Crossing the circular expanse she unsheathed her wand from its holster and cast a silent Accio, her towel and toiletries immediately hurtling towards her.

Entering the bathroom Hermione locked the large door before filling the bath with steaming water. Stripping her clothes from her body, she tossed them in an unceremonious heap and discarded her wand atop the pile. Sinking into the near scolding water she released a drawn out sigh, the heat penetrating her tense muscles. She lent her head back to rest against the sunken baths ledge. Closing her eyes she practiced deep steady breaths in and back out, as she tried to focus on a way to tether her wayward magic back to her core.

The quietude of the bathroom shattered as the metallic click of a latch reverberated off the stone walls within the enclosed space. One of the room’s four cubical doors opened with an anxiety inducing screech, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. With her thoughts consumed by her argument with Harry she had neglected to cast a Homenum Revelio upon entering the facilities. Hermione sunk low into the bathwater, ensuring her naked form was obscured from sight. How had she not heard the shower running when she had entered the room? She wondered if perhaps the occupant had placed a silencing charm.

A low groan escaped her as she recognised Parkinson emerging from the shower cubical, a towel draped atop her head as she dried her hair. Evidently having heard Hermione’s displeased sound the witch pulled the towel from her face.

As their eyes met a devious smile spread across the Slytherins features. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

Allowing her towel to drop from her body Parkinson made her way towards Hermione slowly, every inch of her feminine form on display as her hips swayed shamelessly with each step. The witch lowered herself into the bath water opposite Hermione. The Slytherins obsidian orbs peered into Hermione’s before she cocked her head to one side.

Unwilling to pull her cautiously watchful eye from the woman across the way, Hermione's eyes swiftly darted to the side before snapping back to her adversaries form. Shit. The realisation that her wand was too far from her reach caused her to groan internally as she felt her chest tighten with creeping panic.

As if sensing her weakness Parkinson waded through the water, closing the distance between them. The Slytherin brandished her own wand, placing its tip beneath Hermione’s chin. As the pug faced witch's pressure increased the bite of the timber and its radiant magic stung her skin, forcing her to tilt her head upward. The Slytherins dark, frenzied eyes flittered around Hermione's facial features before she hissed, "What could Draco possibly see in you? Mudblood."

As she spat the last insult Hermione's eyes instinctively darted to the lettering carved crudely into her flesh. The gesture was fleeting, yet it did not pass unnoticed. Parkinson's eyes trailed down Hermione’s arm, a manic smile twisting her features as her gaze fell upon the cursed scar.

"Well it looks like you were at least branded accordingly. I wonder who had the honour."

Hermione found herself unable to draw breath, the edges of her vision succumbing to the creeping darkness. The Slytherin witch reached out and grasped her wrist forcefully. The moment their skin made contact Hermione’s magic blast forth from the depths of her core.

With the internal pressure of her magic suddenly dissipated she inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Disoriented by the blast she scanned her surroundings as she blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus her sight. She could not see where Parkinson had gone, the witch had seemingly vanished. As Hermione's gaze dropped she inhaled a sharp breath. The Slytherin witch's naked, pale form was distorted by the rippled surface of the water as she slowly sunk to the bottom of the bath.

Without a second thought Hermione dove under the water and grasped one of Parkinson's limp limbs. With force she kicked off the stone bottom of the deep bath, pulling the seemingly lifeless witch with her to the surface. She climbed from the bath with great effort, hoisting the unconscious witch behind her. Gaping down at the drenched witch, sprawled naked on the stone floor, her Muggle instincts kicked in and she reached out to place two fingers on the Slytherins wrist. She released a breath she had not known she held. Parkinson had a pulse.

Bending over the other witch she flinched monetarily as her bare chest came into contact with the equally nude woman. She swept her waterlogged hair behind her ear and lent over Parkinson's mouth, hearing the shallow intake of breath.

The magic of the room’s wards shattered and the grand bathroom door slammed open. Her head snapped over her shoulder, her panicked gaze landing upon Malfoy, his wand clutched firmly in his grasp. The blond wizard rushed forward, collapsing to his knees as he reached her side. Without so much as sparing a wayward glance at Parkinson he cupped her face gently in the palms of his hands.

"Granger... are you ok?"

She managed a single stiff nod in response, causing a minute fraction of his bodily tension to visually uncoil. With a flick of his wand he summoned her discarded towel and draped it around her shoulders.

At last acknowledging the motionless witch he enquired detachedly, "Is she alive?"

"Y-yes."

His face a mask of practiced indifference he continued. "We need to contact McGonagall immediately, can you send a Patronus?"

Hermione's eyes fell to the stone floor as her shoulders hunched forward. "I... I can't. Not anymore."

"Do not leave this room." He stood and sprinted from the bathroom.

Hermione remained knelt on the cold stone floor staring at the motionless woman for what felt like an eternity. She began to shiver, unsure if the involuntary movement was a result of her dropping body temperature or a symptom of shock.

The distant sound of frantic footfalls soon accompanied the staccato beat of her own heart. From the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy return through the bathrooms ornate doors, McGonagall close by his heel. Without the utterance of a single word the Headmistress slashed her wand through the air in a large deliberate arc. The unconscious Slytherin witch was instantly clothed in a set of simple black robes. The Professors lined face was drawn into an intent portrait of concern as she swiftly set about casting a series of complex diagnostic charms. Exhaling a relieved sigh the older witch stilled for a moment before she turned, staring down the length if her nose at her students as she demanded, "explain!"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed as she attempted in vein speak, however no words came forth as she began to rock anxiously on her haunches. Placing his hand protectively on her shoulder, Malfoy stilled the motion before standing to face their Headmistress.

"Granger has been experiencing uncontrolled surges of magic when startled or threatened." He paused and sneered down at Parkinson. "I can only assume our fellow Eighth year somehow presented a threat to Granger."

Head turning to gaze at Malfoy, Hermione's mouth dropped agape. The wizard had on occasion claimed to be observant, she had no idea however that he had fully assessed the extent of her magical outbursts.

"I am aware of Miss Granger’s condition." Profession McGonagall admitted before pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses.

Upon hearing her Headmistresses disclosure Hermione's brows pulled together. Just how many people were privy to her secret?

"I must transport Miss Parkinson to the infirmary before I cast the Rennervate charm upon her." McGonagall turned to address Hermione, "Do you wish to peruse this matter further Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head hastily, the last thing she wanted was others finding out what happened or discovering the reality of her condition.

The Professor inclined her head in understanding. "Very well. I will do my best to prevent this matter from escalating further. However, Miss Granger. I will require you to see Madame Pomfrey in regards to these outbursts."

The Headmistress levitated Parkinson's unmoving form to her side, and turned her gaze to the Slytherin Wizard. "I trust you are capable of returning Miss Granger to her quarters and insuring her comfort Mr Malfoy."

Leaving not a moment for response, she turned on her heel and departed the bathroom, Parkinson's rigid, levitated form trailing in her wake.

Hermione remained motionless, her knees pressed into the cool stone floor. The ability to stand under her own volition was questionable at best, feeling in her legs having long dissipated. Her fixated stare on the wall opposite her was abruptly obscured by the sight of Malfoy. As he knelt down before her, Hermione noted a trace of concern present in his normally stoic facial features.

His steel blue eyes not once wandering from her face his hands moved to ensure the towel was securely wrapped around her bare body. Grasping her upper arms firmly he guided with care to stand. Lower extremities numb from the reduced blood flow she trembled feebly where she stood. Feeling Malfoys wide palm slide supportively into the dip of her waist, she allowed herself to lean into his side for support.

Hermione permitted the blond wizard to guide her from the bathroom and across the thankfully deserted common room. Pausing before her bedroom door she summoned her strength, willing herself to speak. Just barely she managed to vocalise her password in a strangled whisper, the room’s wards dropping to allow them entry.

Inside the room Malfoy cautiously withdrew his supportive hold on her body, hovering close as she tested her own strength. Able to stand without his aid she staggered towards her wardrobe. A faint smile crept onto her face as she noted the Slytherin Wizard divert his gaze respectfully as she changed into night clothes, despite having seen her nakedness only a short time prior.

Overcome by exhaustion she groaned as she climbed atop her plush mattress. Wordlessly she gestured towards her bedside table. Comprehending her request Malfoy opened the drawer and withdrew its sole content, the small vial of violet potion. He unstopped the draught and held it above her mouth. Parting her lips she allowed the wizard to decant a portion of the dreamless sleep draught into her awaiting mouth. An errant drop trickled from the corner of lips, Malfoys thumb darting forth to catch it. As his thumb caressed the swell of her lower lip she swallowed hard.

Growing weary she sought his eye contact. She had to ask. Had to know how he had discovered the secret of her rampart magic. "How... how did you know?"

He smiled knowingly, "it's almost impossible for me not to notice a single thing about you Granger."

Fighting desperately to remain conscious she tried to assess the meaning of his words, however despite her best effort fatigue pulled her swiftly into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies.
> 
> I debated for some time whether I should post this authors note or not. I actually have quite severe anxiety in regards to communication and worried that I may overwhelm my readers by oversharing my personal life. 
> 
> That being said, I need to apologise for the lateness of this update. I am currently 14 weeks pregnant and if I am being honest, with the current state of the world it is not an ideal time to be expecting. Over the last few weeks I have had many difficulties attending medical appointments and it has left very little time practically or emotionally for writing. 
> 
> I am hopeful that things should settle down from here on out and I should return to my fortnightly posting schedule.
> 
> As always please let me know what you think of the chapter.
> 
> Love LilithShade x


	21. DISCOVERY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> First of all, I want to apologise for the short unannounced hiatus this fic took. This pregnancy has been very taxing on me and I had to prioritise my health over my update schedule. Thank you so much for all the love and well wishes on my last update.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please read and review. 
> 
> Love LilithShade x

Seated on her own at the Gryffindor table Hermione absently slathered strawberry jam across a warm scone. Her eyes panned across the Great Hall, observing its many occupants conversing merrily as they helped themselves to a variety of breakfast foods. Soon after situating herself on the long wooden bench she had noted Harry a short distance away with his ever present witch. From time to time the wizards gaze would search her out, his expression momentarily conflicted before Ginny would swiftly reclaim his attention. Heaving a sigh she pulled her gaze from her bespectacled friend and forced herself to bite down into her scone. Hermione missed her best friend immensely, she however had also grown exasperated by her attempts to reason with the wizard. While Harry remained so deeply enthralled by the youngest Weasley she feared there was very little chance of the Gryffindor wizard seeing sense to listen to her in regards to Malfoy.

As the thought of the Slytherin crossed her mind she found herself once again searching for him across the Hall. Yet again he was absent for a meal and Hermione found herself wondering if the wizard had returned to his kitchen rendezvous with the Hogwarts house elves to acquire sustenance. Eyes falling to stare at her remaining breakfast she found her appetite waning. The once flavourful jam now over sweet, yet in stark juxtaposition somehow tasteless. She pushed the plate away from herself and made her way to the Great Halls exit, sparing not a single glance towards neither Harry nor the Slytherin table.

With time to spare before the start of class she meandered her way through the long Hogwarts corridors towards the Library for her Restoration double. At last arriving at her destination she made her way towards the rear alcoves where the battle damaged section was located. Passing under the archway into the desecrated alcove Hermione paused. Malfoy sat at the desk she had transfigured during their first session, already well underway repairing an old leather-bound tome.

Upon seeing the blond wizard her mind recalled the events of the previous evening. Gripped by embarrassment at the sudden realisation that the Slytherin had seen her naked body, she felt her cheeks flush in an instant.

"Hello," She mumbled as she awkwardly sat herself down beside him.

Malfoy remained silent, merely inclining his head in way of a greeting as he continued with his spell work.

With a swish and a flick of her wand Hermione levitated her own small stack of damaged texts to the table top. Through a combination of diagnostic spells and visual assessment she sorted the workload into two categories; those needing repair and the more severely damaged that required replication. The pair worked in relative quietude for some time, only the barely audible sounds of disturbed parchment and their own breaths discernible from the otherwise silent void. 

Levitating yet another repaired volume to her stack of completed texts, Hermione reached absently for another. Instead of the cool, textile parchment she had expected to find, her finger tips brushed lightly against warm flesh. She withdrew her hand with haste cradling it in a fist protectively against her chest. Her eyes snapped to the place her fingertips had been only a moment before and found Malfoys hand, palm down atop her dwindling workload. Their eyes met as the Slytherin wizard too withdrew his hand, his long fingers moving to rub at his jawline. Hermione’s gaze remained fixated on his hand, trailing the path his thumb took across his cleanly shaven chin. His hands. That thumb. That very thumb that had traced the swell of her lower lip as it had caught an errant drop of Dreamless Sleep. Now more lucid than the night previous the memory of his flesh against her own caused her breath to hitch and a heated ache to bloom beneath her navel.

Breaking their eye contact she dropped her head to stare at the wooden desktop, her loose curls falling to obscure the flush she felt spreading across her cheeks. The ghost of his touch upon her lips she recalled the words that came next.

_ She had to ask. Had to know, how he had discovered the secret of her rampart magic. "How... how did you know?"_

_He smiled knowingly, "it's almost impossible for me not to notice a single thing about you Granger."_

She had intended to ask what he meant by that statement, but exhaustion and the Dreamless Sleep potion coursing through her veins had pulled her swiftly into the depths of unconsciousness.

In her vulnerable and fatigue addled state she had for a brief moment considered the possibility that Malfoy fancied her. Now fully cognisant she felt doubt and insecurity nestle within her psyche. Surely he wasn't actually interested in her in such a way. How could he be? They were friends now, yes. But no, she had to have been delusional to entertain such notions. She was not ignorant to Malfoy's reputation amongst the witches. Even in the wake of the war he could certainly garner the affection of women far more exquisite than she. She did not consider herself ugly by any means, but compared to the sophisticated beauty of higher society witches she was undoubtedly plain. What could he possibly see in her? Simple, average Hermione Granger. No, she would not delude herself into believing that the aristocratic Slytherin could ever lower himself to desire a witch as basic as she.

Without as much as a glance in Malfoys direction she stood and moved towards the nearby remnants of a bookshelf with controlled steps. As she slowly retreated she forced herself to lift her chin, holding her head high in a display that bore much more confidence than her fragile self-esteem allowed her to truly embrace.

As she busied herself separating literature from rubble she could not deny the almost pleasant quietude of earlier had been replaced with a stiff silence that pressed down upon her with unspoken tension. Hearing the timber legs of Malfoys stool screech atop the stone floor she froze. His steps echoed through the silence as he closed the distance between them. The wizard stood directly behind her, each of his controlled breaths disturbing the curls that tumbled loosely down her back. Stubbornly she refused to acknowledge his proximity, returning her attention to the damaged tomes before her.

"Granger." He spoke at last, his tone low and laced with an air of command.

Exhaling a sigh she lowered the volume she held back onto the stack and turned on her heel to face the Slytherin. The wizard was close, so close that she was required to significantly elevate her chin to meet his cool grey eyes. The expression he wore was guarded, the shield he so often bore securely in place.

Unwilling to take a step back and expose the vulnerability she felt, she held her position steadfast. Crossing her arms, she gathered her courage to respond, "Oh, so you have deemed it acceptable to speak to me now have you Malfoy?"

A small crack appeared momentarily in the wizards practiced facade. He took a step back running the long fingers of one hand through his fine blond hair. "I was never ignoring you Granger. Simply taking the time to choose my words carefully."

"And what, pray tell, are these carefully conceived words you have taken your time deciding upon?" She demanded, a singular brow raising to reflect her curiosity.

A soft sigh escaped his parted lips, "Unfortunately the words I sought elude me still. Yet, I cannot continue to ignore this matter so I must ask you plainly. I need to ask you about what happened last night in the Eighth year bathroom with Pansy."

_Oh._

She was not ready to discuss the events of the night before. Desperately she had hoped to ignore the occurrence up until the Headmistress forced her upon Madam Pomfrey.

Evidently unpleased by her silence the wizard pressed further, "Granger, just how often have these magical outbursts been occurring?"

She felt cornered, exposed. This was not a topic she wished to speak on. She was not ready to concede the weakness she felt, the unhinged nature of her mental state. Anger rose within her in response to his line of questioning. Who was he to question the state of her mental health? Not when he was incapable of even acknowledging his own.

"If we are going to talk about my mental health, why don't we discuss why you ran out of the Library on Friday night?"

Malfoy's body grew visibly rigid at the mention of their argument in the Library.

"I told you Granger. No one can help me," He hissed through clenched teeth.

Hermione threw her hands in the hair exasperated, "no one can help if you won't let them!"

"Don't turn this back on to me Granger!" He growled before beginning the pace the breadth of the enclosed alcove.

Frustrated by his hypocritical attitude Hermione squared her shoulders and announced, "Well Malfoy, I will discuss my mental health with you if and when you deem it appropriate to reciprocate."

Hermione spun on her heel and returned to sorting her stack of battle damaged texts. The leather souls of Malfoy's shoes slapped against the stone floor as he continued to pace. She tried her best to ignore his irate mutterings, pouring her attention into her task and focusing on her own steady breaths in and out. After a time the wizard retreated to his desk, collapsing onto his seat with a sigh.

As she worked her anger waned, but she'd be damned if she would be the first to apologise. Turning to grasp yet another tome from her stack she realised that in her frustrated state she had hastily made her way through her workload. Deciding against simply summoning another selection of damaged parchment she stood and stretched her tense muscles. Refusing to glance the Slytherin’s direction she meandered her way into the depths of the alcove. The dim light of their candle illuminated work station dissipated the further she progressed. Stubbing her toe on a large chuck of fallen debris, she swore under her breath before reaching down and grasping the stone. Withdrawing her wand she transfigured the piece of debris easily into a hand held lantern and conjured Bluebell Flames within.

The bright blue light of the flame immediately irradiated the area, casting long shadows off various rubble. Hermione’s brows pulled together in concern as she noted the large hole in the alcoves rear wall. She moved forward cautiously to ascertain if any structural damage would present an immediate risk. Placing her lantern carefully down atop a particular large stone Hermione began casting a complex series of diagnostic spells. Exhaling a relieved sigh she relaxed knowing the Library roof would not crumble down atop them at any moment.

Curiosity drew her ever nearer to the cavernous hole in the wall. Where Hermione had expected to find another room or perhaps a hallway that shared a wall with the rear of the Library, she instead found what appeared to be a small, once concealed niche. Pulling her hair up into a messy bun, she grasped her lantern before crouching down to further inspect the recess. Nothing of note stood out to her, yet she could not shake the feeling that something was being obscured from her sight. Casting a swift Revelio as well as a Finite Incantatem for good measure, Hermione sighed in frustration as nothing changed. Resorting to more Muggle methods she placed her lantern carefully down and began to explore the enclosed space with her palms of her hands.

Discovering naught but pebbled stone she very near ceased her exploration, conceding that perhaps the niche held no secrets. Promising herself this would be the final comb of the area she swept her hand across the stone floor in a large arc. A gasp escaped her as the fine hairs on her arm stood on end. Her fingers were still unable to detect any object through touch alone, but Hermione felt the undeniable sensation of foreign magic brush against her own. Closing her eyes she inhaled a deep breath and focused on the subtle vibration of magic. Trusting her own magic over her other senses she reached out and grasped at the source of the disturbance. Her fingers at last wrapping around something solid, something tangible, she released a shuddered breath. Withdrawing her arm from the niche she looked down at her fist to discover she now held a tightly wound scroll. Gathering her lantern she climbed quickly to her feet and made her way back towards her desk with haste.

Hearing her rapid approach Malfoy was on his feet in a moment, "Granger, what is wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Come quick. Look what I have found," Hermione announced with excitement as she pulled her cloth gloves from her satchel.

She felt Malfoy approach, his breath landing on the exposed skin of her neck as he peered over her shoulder.

Their mutual academic curiosity quickly overcoming their previous argument they began to examine the scroll in tandem. Malfoy summoned his own cloth gloves, pulling them on hastily before running one long finger down the length of the scroll.

"You feel it don't you?" He asked in a hushed whisper by her ear.

His breath ghosting the shell of her ear sent a shiver down her spine. Biting her lower lip, she simply nodded in response not trusting her voice in this moment.

"There are some incredibly advanced wards and concealments on this parchment Granger," Malfoy stated as he withdrew his wand and began to cast a series of charms.

Her intrigue only increasing she asked, "Do you think it is safe to open?"

"I believe so."

As the wizard by her side continued to assess the colourful diagnostic diagrams that floated above the scroll Hermione lent forward with an air of trepidation. She ran her index finger along the seam of the scroll before gently prying the delicate piece of parchment away from the rest of the roll. With great care and bated breath she unfurled the scroll at an agonising pace.

"It's blank!" Hermione declared.

Not taking his eyes from the ward diagnostics he responded, "I can see that Granger. Whatever is written on this parchment is obviously quite important, these wards and concealments are not for the unskilled. Come here, I need your assistance." 

They worked in unison and to Hermione's surprise functioned as an incredibly efficient team. They peeled away layer after layer of complex enchantments till at last the diagnostics above the scroll appeared to shift.

Malfoy released a steady breath before he spoke, "That should do it. A simple Revelio charm should work now."

Hermione inhaled a steadying breath and angled her wand just so. "Revelio!"

Murky ink began to seemingly seep from the aged parchment, spreading and morphing, gradually coalescing into something near legible.

"They're runes!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise.

Malfoys brows knitted in confusion before he spoke, "I do not recognise a single rune here. I can tell by their structure that they are at least related in some fashion to the runes we have studied. It is possible that they are a separate dialect so to speak."

Hermione's teeth gnawed at her lower lip as she listened to the Slytherin theorise. "Perhaps. This parchment appears to be quite aged. It is entirely possible this scroll may be so ancient that this branch of runes predates those we know today."

"The wards on this scroll Granger, someone went to a great deal of effort to keep this information hidden."

She thought over his words for a moment. Without knowing the contents of the scroll it they could not risk the information falling in to the wrong hands.

"I think it might be wise to keep this discovery a secret for the time being Malfoy. At least until we know what we are dealing with."

"I agree." The wizard stated, inclining his head once in understanding. 

Hermione carefully wound the fragile parchment into a tight scroll once more before placing her own set of concealments and wards upon the item. Reaching into the breast pocket of her robes she withdrew her small beaded bag. Malfoy arched a curious brow in her direction as she stowed the scroll in the depths of the extended bag, yet did not question the action.

With the small bag once more securely concealed in her robes she turned to Malfoy. "We have much research to conduct, where should we begin?"

"Between the two of us I doubt there is a single tome in the Hogwarts Library pertaining to runic translations that we have not read. At least not within the common texts."

"You're right. We will need to look beyond common knowledge if we are to decipher this scroll," She admitted. "We are going to need permission to enter the Restricted Section."

Withdrawing her wand she called to mind her happiest memories, "Expecto Patronum!"

A feeble silver mist was expelled from her wand tip and Hermione swore in frustration. It had been far too long since she were last able to conjure a corporeal Patronus. 

Malfoy stepped towards her and spoke softly, "We can send a message another way. Or go see the Headmistress ourselves."

"No. That would take far too much time," she countered. "I can do this."

Closing her eyes she inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Her happiest memory had always been then day she had received her Hogwarts letter. The day she had discovered she was a witch. But that memory was so entwined with her parents, their faces filled with joy as their daughter discovered where she belonged. That memory had been tainted since the war, since she had lost them.

She conjured too mind the memory of her parents smiles, the warmth of their touch as they held her tight. These memories, these beautiful memories were hers. It occurred to her suddenly that she need not let their absence from her life overshadow all they had shared. Those moments, they would always be hers to cherish.

"Expecto Patronum!"

She opened her eyes and could not help the brilliant smile that spread across her face. The familiar sight of her ethereal otter swam playfully in the air before her. Imparting the Patronus with a message that they required permission to enter the Restricted Section to locate any books pertaining to restoring a particularly damaged and enchanted text, she sent it on its way.

Turning to Malfoy she found his eyebrow arched incredulously.

"What? I wasn't lying! Well... I may have distorted the truth just a little," She declared, smiling mischievously.

Before the wizard could respond what appeared to be a small origami cat bound into the alcove at high speed. It sprang towards Hermione in a great leap. Swiftly she cast a charm, halting its progress mid-air. Upon having its advance impeded the origami cat unravelled itself to reveal a note penned in the Headmistress' neat cursive.

_Madam Pince,_

_I hereby grant the Eighth year students Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy permission to forthwith utilise the Restricted Section in order to further the efforts of their joint Restoration project._

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall._

_PS - Miss Granger, I expect you to ensure Mr Malfoy adhere to the conditions of his probation and not handle any materials that pertain to dark artefacts._

Turning to face Malfoy it was clear he had read the note and postscript if his exaggerated eye roll were anything to go by.

"She certainly didn't hesitate to give you permission, not even a single query."

Hermione simply shrugged before responding, "I have been given access numerous times over the years. Regardless, I could have got us in even if she had said no. Honestly, it was merely a courtesy."

The pair departed their alcove and made for the front desk with swift eagerness. Madam Pince read the note thrice before glaring at Malfoy with unmasked disdain. Unable to object to the Headmistress' wishes she granted them entry with one last reluctant glance at the Slytherin.

Entering the Restricted Section Hermione shivered as the dark magic of the room washed over her.

Malfoy clearly felt the oppressive taint too, his back visibly tensed as a uttered, "oh great, it feels just like my father's study in here."

"There isn't exactly a thorough filing system in here. How are we supposed to make sure you don’t breach your probation by accident?" Hermione asked.

With a shrug and a devious smirk he replied, "She said I couldn't touch them, not that I couldn’t read them. You open the books and I'll read over your shoulder."

They began to read through every text they could find that even vaguely referenced runic symbols. Description after description was found of immensely horrific rituals and runic bindings. One particularly gruesome text even depicted a series of runes that one was required to forcefully carve into the flesh of a witch to bind her to a select master in servitude. Despite the countless horrors they stumbled upon, still they found no trace of anything that remotely resembled the symbols on the ancient scroll.

Hermione's attention was pulled from yet another text detailing a form of runic enslavement by the sudden sensation her wand vibrating against her skin.

"Shit! We are going to be late for Advanced Arithmancy!" She announced, grasping her wand to cease the alarm.

She closed the book they had been reading and placed it carefully back on the shelf. Turning to Malfoy she added, "We will have to come back another time, there is still so much to read! I'll also head into Diagon Alley this weekend and see if Flourish and Blotts have any texts on runic symbols that are unavailable in the Hogwarts Library."


	22. REALISATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I just want to apologise for the unplanned hiatus this fic took. I could bore you all my my personal life, but I will just say I have been preoccupied with an unexpectedly difficult pregnancy. Everything is fine now, but it has just taken all of my mental energy. I want to thank those at Dramione Fanfiction Writers for their WIPtember event and helping me get back into the head space to continue writing. I hope to get as many chapters complete between now and my baby's birth at the end of October. Fear not, this fic is fully planned out and will be completed.
> 
> Please read and review.
> 
> Love LilithShade x

Sat atop his silken sheets Draco ran his long fingers through the strands of his platinum hair. A deep sigh escaped him as his eyes skimmed over a runic text for what felt to be the hundredth time. At this point he was near certain he could recite the words from memory, yet still they had revealed no clue as to the ancient runes they had discovered. As frustration gripped him, he tossed the book aside on his mattress and collapsed back into his mound of plush pillows.

They had searched for a clue to deciphering the obscure runes for days on end. Soon the days had grown to weeks. Equally enthralled by their mysterious academic pursuit the pair began to spend much of their free time together, hauled up in the Hogwarts Library. They had swiftly agreed to keep their discovery and subsequent research a secret, the unknown information contained within the scroll had been far to expertly concealed to risk it potentially falling into the wrong hands. Granger had told those who bothered to inquire into the increased frequency of their proximity that their Restoration workload was greater than first expected. From what he could garner no one had questioned her excuse any further, all too willing to accept her unfaltering dedication to her education. As for him, no one cared enough to notice his absence from the Great Hall at meals.

Not only had the two spent countless hours alone together in the library, Hermione and himself had spent the last few weekends alone in the common room. Their time together had been dedicated to the study of the texts Granger had acquired from not only a trip to Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmeade, but also Flourish and Blotts and a range of small independent bookstores on a weekend trip into London.

The time he had spent in her company he had come to acknowledge that not only did the Gryffindor witch make a brilliant research partner, he could no longer deny he genuinely enjoyed her company.

So here he sat, frustrated. Not only that they had yet to find an answer to the mystery of the ancient scroll. But also, that their weekend in solitude had been cut short. Why in Salazar’s name did Halloween have to fall on a Sunday this year? Halloween meant that the Eighth years had all returned early from their weekend off grounds to attend the Hogwarts feast.

Granger had not wanted to miss her last Halloween feast as a student, and he did not begrudge her that. He on the other hand could think of little worse than spending his evening in the Great Hall. The disdainful glares from not only the other houses, but also his fellow Slytherins, not to mention even a few of the Professors. He knew exactly what he had done to earn those looks of ire, he knew he deserved them. Yet the preservationists in him was unwilling to subject himself to the reminder too often.

The hours he had spent alone with Granger he could almost forget his past transgressions. She had forgiven him, and for that he was eternally grateful. Others however, were not so quick to forgive, not even to give him the slither of a chance to prove himself. Did he even deserve their forgiveness? Their acceptance? Somehow Granger allowed him to believe, to hope that he did.

A knock on the door shattered the rooms silence, startling him from his reverie. Draco's brows pulled together in confusion, no one knocked on his door. Surely Pansy couldn't be attempting to seduce him again, she had mercifully ignored his existence for the weeks that followed their last argument.

He sprung from the mattress in a fluid motion, gathering his discarded black, long sleeved t-shirt from the foot of the bed as he went. Making his way to the door in a few strides of his long legs, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and onto his body. With a glance at his left forearm to ensure his abhorrent brand was out of sight he opened the door.

For a moment he stood there, stunned at the sight before him. Soon however a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, one that threatened to break and morph into a true smile. Before him stood a wild mane of untameable hair, the witch to whom it belonged obscured from his sight. Granger, with what appeared to be no small effort was balancing a precarious stack of thick texts, topped by a plate of Pumpkin Pasties and a pair of haphazardly teetering Butterbeers.

The effort of knocking on his door had clearly left the stack unbalanced, the Gryffindor struggling to redistribute the weight. One of the two Butterbeers toppled from its place atop the pile, his Seeker reflexes allowing him to instinctively catch the beverage mid fall. With his free hand he plucked the remaining Butterbeer and plate of pastries from atop the stack.

His eyes met hers, employing his practiced Slytherin sensibilities to contain the mirth in his voice he spoke, "You do remember you're a witch right, Granger? You could have cast a Feather-Light charm or perhaps a Leviosa."

Granger scowled back at him, the faux anger never truly reaching her eyes. He watched her fidget nervously with the now more manageable stack of books before she spoke, "I thought maybe we could do a little more research?"

"The others will be back from the feast soon. We will likely have to answer questions about what we are researching if we are seen together outside the Library. I thought we had discussed this already." Draco stated, his brows pulling together. They had already agreed to the level of secrecy required surrounding the scroll.

The flush on her freckled cheeks deepened. "I... ah, thought perhaps I could come in?" 

He was stunned for a moment. It was not as if they had never been in the others rooms before, but those times had been far less than casual; either born of necessity or impulse. Now however, Granger had premeditated her visit to his quarters. While they had each been in the others room once before and the circumstances of both varied greatly, he could not help but recall the common denominator. For at least a portion of both encounters he had been shirtless in her presence. He thought back to the last time she had stood in his doorway. It had not gone unnoticed the way her eyes roamed his bare torso, or that words had temporarily evaded the normally eloquently spoken witch.

Draco was certainly not oblivious to his own physique. He may have shed the vain attitude of his younger years, but he was not blind to the fact he was fit. Some of the lean Seeker quality of his body had been lost over the last few years; between the war and his probation it had been far too long since he had felt a broom beneath him. Yet his months spent on house arrest with no wand had left him little to do but train and condition his body. He was broader, more defined and he knew it.

For a fleeting moment he bemoaned his decision to don a t-shirt. The desire to feel her gaze upon his body, see the fire of temptation ignite within the warm hue of her iris', the deepening flush of her freckled cheeks. No. He needed to stop. He had to stop thinking of her in such a way. She was his friend, if he were being honest with himself, his only friend. He could not risk that to even entertain the notion of anything more with the Gryffindor witch.

Having concluded his internal scolding and suppressing his ever-growing desire, he moved back from the doorway to grant her entry. Granger entered his room with less hesitation than on her last visit, moving swiftly to the end of his bed, placing down her stack of texts atop his mattress and dropping her satchel to the floor with an audible thud. As he moved to seat himself leisurely atop his mattress, back up against his headboard he watched her roll the tension from her shoulders.

"You really should try to remember to charm your belongings to be lighter, you're doing yourself an unnecessary strain Granger."

She was silent as she moved to sit on the edge of his bed beside her books. Her gaze wandered to the floor as she softly confessed, "Honestly, most often I just forget it's even an option. I spent the first eleven years of my life not ever questioning that manual labour was merely an unavoidable necessity of life."

Was she ashamed of the fact she forgot to utilise common charms? The tone of her voice and the way she stared down meekly at her pigeon-toed feet caused an ache to settle in his chest. The fact that his past taunting of her Muggle heritage had contributed to her anguish troubled him in ways he knew not how to name.

He leant forward slightly as he spoke, "There is no reason to feel abashed by such a simple thing Granger. It is quite hard to overcome the ingrained behaviour of our upbringing. Something I am all too familiar with."

He heard her clear her throat softly as she straightened her posture. Turning to grab the book atop the stack and toss it in his direction she changed the subject, "let's get started."

Draco watched her over the top of his own volume on runes as she read another. She seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting and her spine overly straight as she perched on the very edge of his mattress. He wanted to tell her to relax or to make some gesture of comfort, however he knew not what to do or say. Comfort and reassurance, whether physical or verbal were so far outside his own experience, in both giving and receiving. 

Eventually a small gasp escaped Grangers lips and her eyes snapped up to meet his own. With a wide grin she climbed onto all fours atop the bed and pounced at him in a distinctly cat like manner. Throwing herself down by his side at the bedhead she thrust the open text towards his face before he had truly had a chance to process her sudden movement.

"Look!" She exclaimed, pointing at a faded symbol he did not recognise.

He took the text from her hands as she withdrew her wand, summoned her small beaded bag and began to forage within for the hidden scroll. As she began to dispel their numerous protective enchantments he read the description beneath the depicted symbol she had shown such excitement over. The text described the symbol as a depiction of a partially obscured rune of ancient origins, found in an undisclosed location Circa 1819.

"Here! This rune here! It looks awfully similar to the one depicted in this text, don't you think, Malfoy?"

He could not help but feel encouraged by the hopeful air to her voice. The two placed the scroll and text side by side, comparing the strokes and curves of each symbol.

After a thorough examination of not only the runes, but also the remainder of the text Draco sighed, "It does appear to be a similar, if not the same rune. But there is no reference to its meaning or context. It isn't even listed where this rune was discovered, or by whom."

Granger, having reapplied the scrolls protective wards and charms, secured the ancient document in the depths of her bag before reaching for the two forgotten Butterbeers. Passing him one of the beverages she leant back against his headboard and took a long sip.

With a smile she looked to him from the corner of her eye. "It may not be much, but it is something. For weeks we have found nothing, this at last is a something. A place to start."

He too took a refreshing sip of his Butterbeer and claimed a Pumpkin Pasty from the plate. Taking a large bite of the pastry he thought over what to do next as he chewed.

He swallowed before he spoke. "We should send owls to both the author and publisher of this text, see if there is any other information they can provide."

"I was thinking the same, it is the next logical step. I'll send correspondence to them both tomorrow."

Granger looked down at the various texts they had read over the course of the evening and sighed, "While I am elated that we finally have a small clue, these were the last academic texts that I could find commercially. I am honestly not sure to go from here if this discovery yields no results."

He pondered her comment for a moment. He did not doubt Granger had been thorough in her gathering of information, if she believed they had studied all commonly available texts he was certain she was correct. There were however, less common sources of information.

"Why do you not organise a viewing at some of the Wizarding Libraries? The Library of Alexandria or perhaps the hidden wing at the Library of Trinity College in Dublin?"

She raised a brow as she replied, "those Libraries are restricted Malfoy."

"What good is being Hermione Granger, golden girl, saviour of the world and Order of Merlin First Class if you can't use it to pull some strings?"

A small smile graced her features in return to his smirk. "I guess you are right. Kingsley does owe me a favour or two, I'll send him an owl come morning as well."

Finishing his pastry, he turned to face her, relieved to find she had fully relaxed to her surroundings over the duration of their research session.

"So, how was the feast?" He inquired as he helped himself to a second Pumpkin Pasty.

"Oh! It was marvellous, Malfoy. Hagrid certainly outdid himself with the giant pumpkins this year."

Draco watched her as she spoke fondly of the half giant and the Great Halls various decorations and enchantments. A small, near indistinguishable smile crept onto his own features as he watched her eyes sparkle in delight and her hand movements grow ever more animate.

"I am glad to hear it was an enjoyable night. Did you get a chance to speak with your friends?" He queried, knowing all too well how her distance from her friends, over the last month in particular, had troubled her.

A deep frown crinkled her brow as her head dropped to focus on the near empty Butterbeer in her grasp. "Neville and Luna said hello, but they sat at the Ravenclaw table tonight. Harry spoke to me a little, but he still isn't speaking to me like he used to, and he still hasn't mentioned our fight. Honestly, I miss him."

Draco felt a mixture of emotions. Anger at the scar head for hurting Granger like he was, and beyond that frustration that the idiot could not even see how it affected her. If he were being honest with himself, he also felt a tinge of jealously that Granger missed the boy wonder.

"What about the Weaslette?"

She gave him a look. He knew all too well she didn't approve of the name, but she had long since stopped objecting outright to its use.

"Somehow she has become even more possessive of him. It's not just me she can't stand to have him around anymore. She has even started to make remarks at Luna. Luna! That girl couldn't be any less interested in Harry. Anyone could see she is in love with Neville. I'm worried about Harry honestly. Their relationship is not healthy. Ginny’s behaviour is become increasingly manipulative and I'm not sure Harry can even see it."

Draco scoffed, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Potter is blinded by that ginger twat of hers he has his head buried in."

Grangers eyes widened, mouth falling ajar, slapping him across the arm as she exclaimed, "Malfoy!"

He lifted his hands in mock surrender before he smirked and shrugged. "You know I'm right Granger. There is no way Potter wouldn't be seeing how she is treating those around him if he wasn't so distracted by the fact she is regularly parting her legs for him."

The Gryffindor witch huffed and crossed her arms, but did not attempt to disagree.

Finishing her Butterbeer Granger cast a silent Evanesco to clean away the waste they had produced and began to tidy her things. Realising just how late it had become he stood, collected and the stacked the assortment of books from atop his mattress and cast a swift Feather-Light charm before handing her the pile. 

He walked her to his door in comfortable silence, the pair having grown accustomed to the others company over the weeks past. He opened the door, peering out into the common room to ensure no one would see the witch leaving his room. Personally, he couldn't care less if she were seen in his company. But she did not deserve the rumours that would surely take hold if she were seen leaving a wizard’s quarters at such an hour, especially a wizard as openly despised as he.

"All clear. I'll see you tomorrow morning for Restoration."

He turned to face her, expecting the witch to merely wish him a swift farewell and slip out into the darkness of the night. Yet there she stood, looking up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. His eyes flicked between hers and he noted the slight flush of the skin across the bridge of her nose. Just as the urge to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear began to creep to the forefront of his psyche, Granger shattered the moment, pulling her eyes abruptly from his. 

"Good night, Malfoy." She announced, turning swiftly and fleeing into the dark common room.

"Good night." He replied softly, knowing she would be too far gone to hear his words.

Closing and warding his door he turned to lean his back up against the hard timber as the realisation crashed down upon him. "Oh fuck. I fancy her."

He pinched the bridge of his nose before running his hands through his hair in frustration. He had danced around this admission for so long, ignoring and compartmentalising any evidence of his growing affection. With a sigh he pried himself off the door, pulling his t-shirt up over his body and discarding it to the floor as he strode towards his bed. Acceptance of his feelings towards the Gryffindor need not change anything. He could control this, keep it under wraps.

Stripping off his trousers and pants he tossed back his covers and climbed into the bed naked, he simply could not muster the energy to clothe himself in his pyjamas at this point. Laying there with arms propped behind his head atop his plush mound of pillows the events of the evening crept into his mind. More accurately thoughts of Granger seeped into the forefront of his memory against his better judgement.

He recalled the flush of her skin across her freckled nose and the way her eyes had glimmered with excitement at the prospect of progress in their research. He distinctly remembered the way she had crawled towards him on all fours atop his mattress, his mind replaying the event in slow motion.

A deep groan escaped him as he felt his blood rush south. He opened his eyes to the sight of his tented blanket, erection throbbing painfully beneath, demanding attention. For a brief moment he considered getting up and fleeing to the Eighth year bathroom for yet another cool shower. Too long had he been ignoring the persistent issue. He had taken to neglecting its occurrence, all too often his thoughts straying in the moment. The seemingly faceless blonde he would conjure to mind morphing into a witch with wild chestnut locks and warm brown eyes with increasing frequency.

He could disregard his problem no longer however, the throbbing ache having spread outward across his pelvis and down to his thighs. He needed relief.

Tossing his blanket aside he inhaled sharply through clenched teeth as his engorged cock met the cool night air. His fist wrapped around his girth, squeezing with a well-practiced pressure. A sizable bead of pre come swelled from his tip and trickled down across his knuckles. Gathering the moisture, he spread it across himself, circling his now slick thumb atop his head with a low moan.

As he began to pump himself with slow, deliberate strokes he allowed himself to finally envision that which he craved. He shut his eyes tight as he again recalled the way Granger had crawled toward him atop his mattress, the swell of her cleavage just visible from his vantage. This time however instead of throwing herself excitedly down by his side, she nestled herself between his thighs. He pictured her untameable curls and the deep comforting hue of her eyes as she looked up into his. The feel of his own grip against his cock morphed into the sensation of her soft, plump lips and warm mouth. His pace increased.

Draco was under no illusion that he would last long, having denied himself this moment too long. His hips bucked up into each forceful stroke, his pace growing erratic as his balls clenched. Abruptly he ceased his motion, tightening the grip on his shaft as his cock twitched. He groaned into his release; thick, long ropes of come landing upon the taut ridges of his chest and abdomen. With a final few languid stokes he released himself with a contented sigh.

Fetching his wand, he cleaned himself up with a silent charm and collapsed back into the mattress fully sated. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he realised that he felt absolutely no remorse for his action. No guilt in his desire for the beautiful, intelligent witch he was thankful to call his friend.


End file.
